


The Chamber

by corvidae9



Series: Switchverse [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fourth in a series of Switchverse follow-ups, Gen, and therefore unrepentantly AU.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-30
Updated: 2006-10-30
Packaged: 2018-10-18 16:52:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10621095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corvidae9/pseuds/corvidae9
Summary: The Heir of Slytherin terrorizes Hogwarts and only one person can put a stop to it. All right-- one person and a handful of his mismatched classmates.  (Harry, Draco, Hermione, Neville, Ron, Pansy, Hannah, Vince, Greg, Fred and George.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://juice817.livejournal.com/profile)[juice817](http://juice817.livejournal.com/) is my hero and the bestest beta in the west.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gents, students, professors, old members and visitors! It's a fine day for Quidditch, as they all are, and today you're in for quite a match! It's not only the first game of the season, but the highly-anticipated (and heavily wagered-upon) Hufflepuff versus Gryffindor!" Lee put as much emphasis on 'Gryffindor' as he could manage, and Professor McGonagall standing nearby only smiled benignly as the near-capacity crowd loosed a deafening cheer.

"That's right, Hufflepuff's lineup is strong, and with the addition of the notorious Potter and Malfoy, some people think that Gryffindor's going to roll right over and play dead, but that's so far from possible, it may as well be Hufflepuff's chance at the Quidditch Cup."

This time, McGonagall did elbow him with a stern look.

"Err. Sorry, Professor. At any rate, Gryffindor's got a new Seeker, so keep an eye out-- Abbott is so fast her own team can hardly keep sight of her. Alright! There's Madam Hooch... the teams have taken position and... yes! There goes the Quaffle. Game time!"

The crowd cheered again, though it almost immediately became more of an impressed 'oooh'.

"Potter takes early possession of the Quaffle, because he's a gloryhound like that-- oh, nice pass to Malfoy, up and around those Bludgers... wow. What the devil sort of move was _that_?"

McGonagall's eyes went a little wide as Harry and Draco flew circles around her Gryffindor chasers with seemingly little effort, scoring in what had to have been record time, going right after the Quaffle again without a pause. This time Draco intercepted the toss from Oliver and passed it to Ian Cadwallader, the third Chaser on the Hufflepuff team.

"Well, bugger. 10-0, Hufflepuff. Cadwallader has the Quaffle and let me tell you, his flying has improved from last year's dismal perform-- err. It's improved. Probably thanks to having to keep up with-- _those toss_ \-- err. Sorry, sorry. 20-0 Hufflepuff, and boy, does Wood look angry. Actually, probably about as angry as Bell, Spinnet and Johnson look, and let me tell you, you do not want those three angry at you. I still have a mark fr-- right. Focus, yes ma'am. Both Diggory and Abbott are aggressively circling the field, but the Snitch doesn't seem to have made an appearance yet."

Lee loosed a guffaw and pointed. "Oh! Nice interception by Johnson, though she knew she had to be taking her life in her hands flying directly between those maniacs. Err. Potter and Malfoy. And she's off toward the goalposts with Bell and Spinnet tight on her heels - gah. Look at that formation! Girls like that make the world go 'round, I tell you. Here come Malfoy, Potter and Cadwallader-- Whoa!"

A Bludger rocketed directly toward the knot of Chasers and the players involved fell away in at least four directions. Angelina didn't bother deviating from her course, she just leaned in and moved faster. Katie and Alicia circled around and rejoined her just short of the Hufflepuff goals and didn't bother stopping for anything so trivial as the Keeper. They flew right toward him, peeling away at the last minute to flow over and around him like water and sunk a goal without a second thought to where the Bludger had gone.

"Gryffindor scores! It's 20-10, Hufflepuff and what are Bones and Singh thinking? You know, someone ought to tell those Hufflepuff Beaters that the Bludger's meant for the Seekers, not their own Chasers, but you know they're a little sl-- ouch! Oh! Diggory's spotted something and there goes Abbott..."

###

Harry was in a zone that could only be described as a Quidditch high. His heart was racing as he flew patterns that he and Draco and Ian had practiced over and over, but today he felt faster and better than ever. He didn't know how to describe it. Before the game he'd been nervous; he'd been outright terrified as he walked onto the field with the rest of the team, but once he was in the air it had all fallen away. It was about the Quaffle, the hoops, staying on his broom and keeping tabs on Draco, Ian, and the Bludgers.

He frowned and narrowed his eyes as Gryffindor scored, but damn-- that had been a pretty move. He made a mental note as he stared after Johnson and barely heard Draco shout, "Potter, behind you!"

Without a second thought, Harry dropped and rolled, not missing the low whine of the Bludger cutting through the air where he had just been. He nodded in Draco's direction as he rolled again and fell into place between him and Ian, speeding up immediately in the direction of where Bell was now heading for the hoops again.

The whine was back and the three Hufflepuff Chasers peeled away again. This time, the Bludger followed Harry, though he spun and spiralled like a thing possessed. A low grade panic began to rise up in his chest as he pulled out of the dive and leaned over the broom to push it harder. "Go on!" he called up to Draco as he flew past, trying to shake it.

Nothing seemed to work. The Hufflepuff Beaters, Adrienne Bones and Rajinder Singh, were at his side in another second, smashing it away helplessly as it just sailed right back. Cedric directly crossed his line of sight, as did Hannah, Fred, George and the second Bludger, which the twins were gleefully aiming back and forth at Cedric and deflecting from Hannah as the Seekers went for the Snitch.

Hannah's hand stretched out for the Snitch just ahead of Cedric's. Harry could hear Lee Jordan shouting about two more goals in rapid succession, one each for Hufflepuff and Gryffindor, but Harry was otherwise occupied. He sped in the direction of the Seekers, shouting to Adri and Jin, "cover Cedric!"

The two Hufflepuff Beaters exchanged a nervous glance but did as they were told as Harry made straight for Hannah. Fred (or George, whichever one it was, sod it all) shouted, "Oi, Potter, saving us the trouble of finding you?" but he ignored them completely.

Dropping in alongside Hannah, Harry was moving fast, still trailing the Bludger. "Back off, Potter," she growled at him in a rough voice that didn't match her sweet face, not sparing him a glance.

"Gladly," said Harry and as he rolled under her, allowing the fast-approaching Bludger to slam into her, instead. Unfortunately, it managed to hit her outstretched arm with a sickening crunch, and Harry bit his lip, feeling like an utter arse as she cried out, but didn't fall.

Harry rose in the air again, muttering, "Bugger," but he didn't have the time to feel bad about it as the Bludger came right around and began tracking him again. From where he banked and turned, he could see Hannah still reaching for the Snitch with her good arm, though now Cedric had an edge as Adri and Jin used the second Bludger to practically play tennis with Fred and George around them. Hufflepuff scored again in the background as Harry zoomed across the pitch and turned once more, unwilling to land; if he did, it would be an automatic time out, and Cedric was too close to the Snitch to interrupt the game now. Instead, Harry continued to try and outfly the crazed Bludger, his forearms and hands sore even in the heavy Quidditch gloves from all of the rapidfire maneuvering it required to keep from being walloped by the unnaturally fast Bludger.

Sweeping by alongside Ian in pursuit of Alicia and Katie, Draco shrugged and threw his hands out at Harry, expression clearly asking what the hell was going on, but Harry had no time to do anything but bank, sweep, spiral, and repeat in a different succession.

Vaguely, he heard Lee shout, "Diggory's caught the Snitch and it's game over, 190-20 Hufflepuff, thanks to their playing like a pack of dirty Slyther--"

Professor McGonagall took over the enchanted megaphone, but Harry didn't hear what she said as he sped to the ground. He could see Hermione and Neville running out of the stands at the forefront of the crowd, Ron and Pansy not far behind. Hermione's wand was already drawn as Harry hit the ground and rolled away from the Bludger, and after one more panicked roll in which he felt the blasted thing whoosh past his shoulder, it exploded in a hail of red and gold sparks.

Hannah landed her broom not far away, though she fell off as she tried to dismount it, and Harry spared only a grateful wave for Hermione as he ran over immediately, trying to help Hannah up. "I'm so sorry, I only meant for it to stop you, and since it wouldn't leave me alone..."

He hadn't even seen the punch coming; hell, he hadn't noticed Greg at all to begin with, but it was like being hit in the face with a sack of bricks. Harry went down and barely saw Draco step between him and Greg before it all went dark.

###

Draco stood in front of Greg, flinching as Harry hit the ground with a 'thump'. "Greg! Stop! It's a rough game! Potter wasn't _trying_ to hurt her, I swear."

Unconvinced, Greg took another step forward. From just to his right, Vince waved. "Hi, Draco. Me an' Greg were talking about how we don't talk to you anymore. 'Cos we want to, but first, we have to pummel Potter."

Cedric slammed into the back of Draco's shoulder and outstretched arm, ready to move on Greg. "Morons! If your girl can't handle the game, she ought to have tea parties instead."

"I'll give you tea parties," scowled Hannah as she rose from the ground with a grimace and shook off the rest of the team around her, holding her broken arm to her side. "Vince, Greg, back off. It's a game, it happens and I can bloody well handle it. Diggory, yeah, you won, but I hear you mention tea parties again and your arse is mine. Are we clear?"

Tilting his head at the tiny, bedraggled blond, Cedric nodded bemused and impressed. "Apologies, Abbott. Good game. Alright?"  
  
"Oh, hey!" Vince grinned. "Hannah, this is Draco. Draco, Hannah."

###

"Let's see," said Draco, cross-legged and facing Harry on the sofa in the Hufflepuff common room as the party raged around them. He pointed toward where Ian was chatting up a gaggle of fellow third years. "Look that way again."

Harry rolled his eyes, and did so, though he was weighted down by too much butterbeer, an oversized and feathered tricorn pirate hat and a pile of black and yellow mardi gras beads. "Well?"

"Nah, your nose is fine," said Draco, tipping back his cowboy hat, his own beads clacking loudly. "Pomfrey did a spectacular job. All I can see is a little bit of bruising." He took a huge swallow from his own butterbeer and held the empty bottle out. "Refill!"

One of the firsties nearby exchanged his bottle for a cold, full one and Draco slumped back against the sofa with a lazy grin. "I could get used to this," he sighed. "Oh wait! I am!"

Falling back over the armrest with a laugh, Harry held on to his hat so as not to lose it as he regarded the group of now upside-down fourth years standing nearby. Cedric in an open astronaut's helmet reached out, patted his cheek a little too hard and then pointed a little crookedly. "Those're m'boys, there," he said, nodding gravely to anyone in earshot. "Didja see them? Fanfuckingtastic."

Knowing Cedric and his mates had produced a bottle of firewhiskey from somewhere, but weren't sharing with the lower years, all Harry did was swat at Cedric's hand, losing his hat in the process and muttering, "Bugger."

Draco, however was up on his knees in an instant holding his bottle up, "Damn right we are. And Cadwallader almost as good."

Harry snorted a laugh and covered his eyes as Ian reached out and shoved Draco's back hard without even looking at him. The shove sent him sprawling directly into Harry, however, who could only manage an 'oof' through his laughter.

"Here now, none of that," said Adri, grabbing Draco by the shirt, hauling him up, tossing him back to roughly where he'd been sitting before and planting herself between him and Harry on the sofa. "Only Cedric gets away with that sort of obvious boytouching."

That set off another wave of laughter, and by now, Harry was giggling helplessly as he tried to sit up. Cedric slammed Harry's hat back on his head and pointed at Adri. "Who'm I supposed to be touching on, now, then, Bones?"

Any part of the team and assorted troublemakers in the vicinity all volunteered cheerfully, "Oliver Wood," as a result of which there was much more laughter.

"Not getting any tonight, though," mumbled a smirking Draco, though everyone seemed to hear him and the laughter was then punctuated with all manner of rude gestures and innuendo.

"Ha! Right. Good one, lads," Cedric waved it off with an unconcerned grin. "Err. And lady," he added, sliding up behind the sofa and leaning down to shove her elaborate princess headgear aside and smack a kiss on the top of Adri's head, "not that she acts like one. But no, no. Humiliating them on the pitch was just a start. Remember- we get our further revenge Monday."

Wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, Harry stopped long enough to remember the wager they'd laid with Wood at the Welcoming Feast. Suddenly snorting another laugh, he pressed his face to Adri's shoulder and laughed even harder. "Oh, my God. We _are_ brilliant."

As had been his entire day. For once since the murderous, disembodied voices and that bloody message about the Chamber of Secrets and sodding 'Heir' in the second-floor corridor, things seemed normal. Or rather-- they were perfect, which was far from normal, but much more welcome as far as Harry was concerned.

###

"Oh, my God. My head," muttered Draco as he stirred in his bed, the minute amount of light seeping in through the breaks in his bed hangings too bright by far. Worse, suddenly they were pulled open and Draco flailed in an attempt to pull the covers over his face. "Gah! G'way!"

Harry climbed onto the foot of Draco's bed and pulled the drapes shut again before shaking Draco's foot. "Wake up, git."

"Mrrr. My head is about to explode. Go away with your sodding noise and light," mumbled Draco, pillow smashed to the side of his face.

Harry sighed and leaned up, holding a bottle out to Draco. "Hangover Potion. I nicked us some from the infirmary, and heard some really disturbing news while I was there. Drink up and then we'll talk."

Draco cracked one eye open and scowled. "Bloody hell." He snatched the bottle, uncorked it unsteadily and tossed it back with a grimace. "Ugh. Thanks. What's going on?"

"That Ravenclaw firstie that stalks us? The one with the camera permanently attached to his face? Creevey?" Harry waited for Draco to mumble an affirmative. "They found him petrified last night, just like Mrs. Norris. Camera's frozen in his hands and word is the film was melted."

Scowling even more deeply, Draco fell back onto his pillow with a small 'whump'. "Lovely."

"It gets better. Remember that mad house elf? Turns out he's the one responsible for the portal at Platform 9 3/4 being broken, and yesterday's crazed Bludger." said Harry, clearly disgusted. "He says he did it because I'm in danger because of the Chamber."

" _He_ 's responsible for the Bludger?" Draco said, finally sitting up with a groan, though he looked markedly less clammy. "Should've known Wood and his crew're too Gryffindor for that sort of thing. Did he say anything else?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Other than 'Dobby had to iron his hands', and 'Harry Potter must leave or he will die', it was all pretty much in the same vein." Furrowing his brow as Draco stared hard, Harry added, "Err-- alright?"

"'M sorry," said Draco, his fingers twisting in the sheet. "Did you just say its name is _Dobby_?"

"...Yeah. I didn't mention that before?" Harry said as he shrugged and moved on. "Weird the way they talk about themselves."

Draco looked away, gobsmacked. All the warnings about the Chamber and the fact that Harry was in danger had come from his own house elf. And the filthy thing was insistent that his master had something to do with it -- a master who just happened to be Draco's father.

"God damn it." Covering his eyes with both hands, Draco tuned out Harry's wide-eyed inquiries over his health as his heart sped uncontrollably, his breath coming in short inhalations. "He's ours," Draco said, voice low and thin to the point of breaking. "Dobby's our house elf."

There was a heavy pause as Harry sat back on his heels. "...Maybe there're two with the same name?"

"There are _never_ two with the same name alive at the same time!" Draco lashed out. "Never! And if you weren't so sodding ignorant about the Wizarding world, you'd know that!" Too scared and angry to think straight, Draco didn't even flinch from the hurt that crossed Harry's face as he tossed the covers back. "That's just perfect. Of course Weasley would be right about my father." Draco threw back the drape, too, only blinking a little as the sun streamed in, muttering as he hopped lightly down onto the rug. "Why wouldn't he be, after all?"

Frowning, Harry hissed, "Draco, stop," but Draco ignored him entirely, snatching up his dressing gown as he stalked away.

###

Harry sat in the center of his own bed with revision that was very much not being done and waited for Draco to come back, wondering whether to take it to Dumbledore or whether he should say anything to anyone at all.

By the time lunch came around, Draco hadn't come back. Sliding onto the floor with a heavy sigh, he ran one hand through his hair and went down to the Great Hall. Once there, he walked directly past the Hufflepuff table and slid into the empty spot at the Slytherin table next to Neville, glad for once that Hermione was nowhere to be seen, murmuring, "Hey."

It wasn't much of a surprise to see any of Harry's friends at one another's tables, but the Slytherins were the least welcoming, at best. Under the glares of the older students, Harry dropped a piece of bread onto his plate and half-heartedly began stacking cold cuts on it before turning to Neville again, lowering his voice significantly. "You're a Pureblood, right?"

Neville didn't pause as he took an apple off of the tray in front of him, answering warily, "Yeah. But you knew that."

"Yeah," said Harry. "It's just..." He looked around until he was satisfied that no one else was paying attention. "Your family... they don't... I mean, they're not..." He took a breath and finally looked directly at Neville. "Do they um... support Vol-- You Know Who?"

There was a short pause and Harry backpedalled at the look on Neville's face. "I'm sorry. It's just--"

"Gran never held with that sort of bollocks," Neville interrupted, setting his jaw. "She thinks she's better than a lot of people, and their blood status isn't really a relevant factor. My parents were Aurors and they fought him the first time around." Breathing in heavily, he went on, "That's a 'no', Potter, in case you missed it. What's this all about?"

Feeling once again like an utter shite, Harry ducked his head. "It's-- I don't get it, Nev. Malfoy's dad--" Harry paused and looked around again, more quiet even than before. "I think he was lying about being under the Imperius curse. I think he might be one of the people behind this... whatever with the Chamber of Secrets."

"That would surprise no one but you, Harry," said Neville, not quite as harshly as it might have been. "And maybe Draco, if he really didn't know."

"I don't think he does. _Did._ " Harry pushed his plate away untouched. "I don't think he wanted to."

###

After walking a circuit of the school grounds, Harry took the long way back from the pitch across the run-down bridge and finally back to the castle and the dorms. He murmured the password to the statuary that guarded the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room, surprised as it opened only halfway through his saying, "Whomping Willow," and even more surprised as Pansy pushed the half-open door the rest of the way as she hurried out.

"Pansy-- hi," Harry said as she shoved by, brow furrowed and murmuring something perfunctory as she brushed past him. Normally, he wouldn't have registered much more, but in light of everything that had happened so far, he couldn't have missed her ashen face and her tightly-crossed arms as she rushed off.

Harry scratched the side of his neck as he entered the common room, noting the tight knots of students murmuring to one another and going quiet as they caught sight of him. He opened his mouth to say something and then changed his mind when he realized that Draco was nowhere to be seen, waving them off as he jogged up the stairs to the second year boys' dormitory. The dormitory door shut with an impossibly loud click as he let himself in, and Harry made his way to the far end of the room slowly, though he'd immediately noticed Draco sitting on his bed just across from his own. He didn't quite know what to say, but Draco saved him the trouble.

"I knew... I know how he feels about halfbloods and Mudbl-- muggleborns and I know that he thought You Know Who was right... but I didn't really think... I mean I agree with him. My father... or I did..." He paused and took an audible breath, and Harry knew he'd given thought to what he was saying, even if he was still shaken. Subdued or not, his chin was still held a little too high as he said, "Honestly, Harry? I still think we're better. But I don't think..." he shook his head. "V-Voldemort's not right. And bringing him back isn't right."

Harry sat heavily on the end of Draco's bed and pulled his feet up underneath himself as Draco looked down at his own hands. "My father. Isn't right. I don't know what to do about that. I don't know what I _can_ do." He huffed an unamused laugh. "And I'm meant to be following in his footsteps."

Jaw set, mouth dry, Harry nudged Draco's knee. "We'll think of something."

The door to the dormitory was suddenly thrown open as Anthony ran in, Daphne and Steven on his heels. "Honestly. How could the two of you not tell us that Granger's the Heir?!"

Draco covered his red-rimmed eyes with both hands in a show of exhaustion, his voice as haughty as ever, though he was mumbling. "She's not the Heir, you dimwit, she's too busy being a Mu--"

Harry interrupted loudly, nudging Draco even harder, hoping he'd take the hint and shut the hell up while Harry talked over him. "--As shocked as everyone else. Not all Slytherins are evil, you know."

"Rubbish," said Daphne, lips pressed together in disbelief. "Women are more evil than anyone gives them credit for." Anthony turned a horrified grimace in her direction and her shoulders came up in an unconcerned shrug. "What?"  
  
###

Hermione was frankly sick of the ignorance of the entire school. Half of the people she'd seen that Monday were giving her dirty looks, and the rest fleeing her presence. Not that she particularly cared about them, but the fact that they were dumb enough to fall for a day-old rumor that she'd wager either Lavender or Tracey was behind. Certainly the fact that she was actually Muggleborn made it more amusing, but not many people were privy to that bit of information.

On the bright side, Neville and Ron had decided to be her personal escorts between classes, and --though she could take care of herself just fine, thank you very much-- it was as heartening as it was unnecessary. Amusing, too, since in her estimation, if she had really been the Heir of Slytherin, it would follow that she would need Pureblood minions, and with the way they were doing more than enough glaring on her behalf, they certainly fit the bill.

She pushed the door to the library open and walked in, head held high, Ron and Neville following closely. Every head turned as could be expected, but no one looked away, instead choosing to whisper and/or point. Rolling her eyes as Ron grumbled under his breath, she crossed her arms and stepped up the pace, heading directly for the far stacks. Turning the final corner to the back study area, she wasn't surprised to see Harry slumped in a chair, peering at his Transfiguration book. Draco and Pansy were sitting back to back on the floor nearby, a book open in Draco's lap, though the one in Pansy's lap was shut, her head lolling over on her shoulder and half on Draco's.

"Hi," she said in a stage whisper.

Harry looked up and waved sympathetically. "Hi. Catch enough trouble today?"

"Ugh," sighed Hermione as she flopped into the seat across from Harry. "People are such idiots."

"Tell me about it," said Ron as he moved to sit on the ground near Pansy's knee. "How are you holding up?" he asked as he rummaged in his bag for a moment and then produced a small, wrapped chocolate which he then set on Pansy's open book.

Pansy smiled and reached for the sweet only to have it hop toward her, causing her to start violently. As she caught it against her chest, she bumped Draco, who turned and frowned at Ron over her shoulder, curiously offsetting her grin as she said, "Fine. Is it safe to consume?"

"Is it even clean?" drawled Draco caustically and Pansy reached back with her free hand to smack him on the hip. "Mmmph," he huffed, rocking forward up onto his knees and then to his feet. Eyes wide as she was thrown off balance, she threw her hand out and caught Ron's arm to keep from falling backward into the space that Draco had just vacated. Both Pansy and Ron shot a glare in Draco's direction which he predictably paid absolutely no attention to as Pansy let go and sat up on her own.

"They're _fine_ ," muttered Ron. "They're meant to flop around a bit in your stomach, but that bit sort of tickles."

Draco already moving to block Neville's path. "Say, Longbottom. You're not the Heir, are you?"

Neville snorted a disbelieving laugh. "Um, no. You?"

"Damnably, no," said Draco. "So all right. We know that it's not Potter or Pansy. I'm reasonably certain that Weasley's so far out of the running as to be ridiculous," he went on, disregarding the sound of indignant protest from where Pansy was eyeing Ron warily as she unwrapped her chocolate. "We know it's not Granger due to her unfortunate parentage. Excellent. Six down and.... what? About two hundred seventy to go?"

Busy scowling at Draco, Hermione hissed, "Shhh!" as she looked around. "Someone will hear you!"

"Hear what?" said a new voice as Vince came into view around the stacks, followed by Greg.

"Something about Granger's parents being old?" shrugged Greg. "Hi, Draco. You wanted to see us?"

Draco smiled and brought his hands together expressively. "Ah! Yes! I've got an- um--hmm--" His sentence trailed off distractedly into a snicker that grew into full-throated laughter as he slumped over and dropped a hand on Harry's shoulder instead.

Harry for his part was bravely attempting to keep a straight face and failing miserably as he finally gave in and snorted, "Oh my God. That's still brilliant."

Hannah was now standing between Greg and Vince looking supremely displeased, her robes transfigured into a gold and black striped superhero cape over her uniform, a giant 'H' emblazoned in the same colors across her chest, her pointed cap now furry and sporting a wide, white stripe and rounded ears that twitched at random intervals.

"I hate you," she said, hands on her hips. "Can we please get on with this?"

###  
  
"Oi, Loony! Any nargles in your knickers today?"

"Hmm?" Luna blinked and looked up from her book to see the offending group of boys snickering. Not a moment later, the two at the forefront suddenly shifted shape into a pair of giant, confused chickens, pecking at the straps of their fallen bookbags with matching indignant squawks.

"Oh," Luna grinned. "I see."

Fred strolled by proudly, just like the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team in his full Hufflepuff Hero regalia, and ruffled her hair fondly. "That's our girl."

"No worries, boys," said George immediately following, similarly attired and trailing his little sister, pointing at the giant chickens. "It'll wear off in a bit." He shoved Ginny roughly onto the wide stone railing that Luna was sitting on. "Look, ducks, we brought you a friend. She's promised to play nice."

"Play nice, baby Slytherthing!" snickered Fred over his shoulder.

George jogged to catch up, slapping a hand on Fred's shoulder and pumping the other fist in the air. "Truth, justice, loyalty, puppies, and the friendly, badgerly way!"

Fred stopped and shook a random firstie's hand. "We are, indeed--"

"The Hufflepuff Avengers," they cried together and broke into a run at the sight of Oliver Wood. "Captain!"

Luna watched them disappear around the corner before turning to Ginny. "Hello. You don't have to stay if you don't want to."

"Idiots," grumbled Ginny, crossing her arms. "And you! Why don't you say anything to them?" Ginny asked, half-pointing to the giant chickens that were now being adorned with signs that read "Eat Me" by the remaining non-poultry in the group. "Ever? You just let them say whatever they want until Gred and Forge come and transfigure them or wallop them because they're too stupid to learn not to mess with you, and yet you just sit there smiling. You have to stand up for yourself. You're a bloody Gryffindor!"

"I do," smiled Luna serenely. "People who like reactions go all wobbly when they don't get them." She shut her book. "Though, it's funny-- you'd think a Slytherin might appreciate letting others do their dirty work."

Ginny blinked and after a beat, snorted a laugh as she pulled her feet up underneath her. "Maybe I'm not so great at this Slytherin thing yet."

Beaming, Luna handed Ginny the book she'd been reading. "Oh good. I thought I was the only one just now slipping into my skin."

Tilting her head to read the cover, Ginny's brow furrowed. " _The Knight of the Lion_. What's that?"

"Background research on incorrigible Gryffindors."

"Oh. I don't... erm. Read much outside of schoolbooks," said Ginny, suddenly looking a little uncomfortable as she handed it back. "Books and I... we're not always on very friendly terms."

"That's very sad," said Luna gravely, her huge eyes trained on Ginny. "Books are usually very friendly, even if their contents are not."

"...Yeah," said Ginny as she unfolded her legs and set her feet back down on the flagstone. "I've got to-- um. Go."

###

"Read me the list again," sighed Harry, letting his head thump back against the wall.

Draco heaved a sigh, threw his hand up and finally picked up the piece of parchment that had been sitting at his hip. "Alright. Hufflepuff. We've got nothing."

"That's not true," murmured Neville. "We haven't ruled out Nott."

"Nott was at the party with us when Creevey was petrified," mumbled Harry. "He fell asleep in the big chair by the fireplace."

"We don't know when it happened. He might've woken up and gone off after the party," said Neville with a frown.

"Oh yes, he woke up still a little blitzed from the butterbeer that made him pass out to begin with and then toddled off muzzily to do some evil," grumped Pansy from where she was hunched over her Transfiguration homework.

Hermione huffed, "He might've been playing 'possum!"

"Trust me," said Harry, pinching the bridge of his nose. "He was singing the school song to the common room badger just before passing out."

"Why don't we just skip to the Slytherins?" said Hannah, clearly annoyed. "I mean, where else would the Chamber be but the dungeons?"

"Fine," said Hermione, glaring at Hannah. "Let's start with the scourge that is the faction of Tracey Davis and Lavender Brown."

"It can't be Lavender," said Neville. "She's a half-blood."

"That doesn't preclude Tracey," argued Hermione. "And it's patently clear that she's just evil."

Neville nodded and put his hand out for the list, taking it from Draco to make a note. "Will Eloise talk about them, Hermione?"

"No," Hermione frowned. "They treat her terribly and yet she's glad not to be the outcast. She wouldn't turn on them without good reason."

"Because that's you, right?" asked Draco, adding an indignant "Ow, what?" as Harry reached out and smacked his arm, hard.

"How do we know it's not you, anyway?" asked Hannah, looking right at Hermione. "I mean, this could all be a show. If even your own yearmates don't like you, isn't that... I don't know. A sign?"

"It's not," said Harry, Draco, Ron, Pansy, Neville and Hermione at once and Hermione looked flustered.

"I'm, um. Muggleborn," said Hermione, eyes downcast. "Please don't tell anyone."

"...Oh," Hannah said, confused. "I thought--"

"No. It was... a misunderstanding," Hermione said as she looked up again. "That is... problematic at best to straighten out now. But now you know it isn't me." She took a breath and nodded as she redirected the conversation. "Let's back up then. How do we even know it's someone in our year or younger? Where did that information come from?"

Draco cleared his throat. "It... err. Was in the same conversation that I _overheard_ about how this isn't the first time for the Chamber. M-- They made a reference to their first trip to Diagon Alley, but I don't know if they meant this year or last."

"Yeah?" said Ron, tone combative. "What else did your father say about it, Malfoy? Leaving anything out?"

"Shut yout mouth, Weasley," sneered Draco. "At least we still _act_ like P--"

"That's enough!" Pansy said, slamming her quill on the table. "It makes no logical sense for the two of you to keep playing out this little game. Either despise each other on individual merits or don't, but I know you both, and neither of you is your family!"

"Pansy--" Draco began, but she cut him off.

"Be quiet," she said as she picked up her quill and began writing again as if nothing had happened. "I have to finish this essay. Move on to the next suspect."

Still looking abashed, Ron nudged Neville with his foot, but Neville was already frowning at the list. "That can't be right."

Hannah took the list out of his hand and tilted her head. "No, that makes sense," she nodded and reached over to hand the list to Harry.

Frowning, Harry let the list slap onto his thigh. "You're seriously telling me we think it could be Ginny?"

Ron stood up so quickly, his chair fell backward. "Bollocks. Who wrote that? Malfoy?"

"I did," said Hermione in a very small voice as Ron turned the full force of his displeasure on her. "Apart from her blood status, I've, um. Heard her say a few really strange things. She's been unaccounted for during all of the attacks, and she's not particularly close to any of the girls in her year. Or anyone, as a matter of fact... "  
  
"Except that nutter, Lovegood," finished Hannah. "Who is not only Pureblood, but creepy to boot with all the staring and laughing."

"We aren't descended from Slytherin!" said Ron, with a grimace, his face entirely red. "We're Gryffindors! We've always been until me! And we've bloody well never given a toss for blood status!"

"No?" smirked Draco. "When was the last time a Weasley married anything but?"

Pansy murmured, "Think, Ron. How do we know it's not?"

Not at all mollified, Ron pointed at Draco. "First. Get stuffed, Malfoy. Second," he said as he held up his fingers and counted off. "Why would it be Ginny, when it could've been Bill? Or Charlie? Or Percy? Or the twins, or even me? Third, our parents have spent our entire lives teaching us that it's not right to discriminate based on blood status. Why would they turn around and teach Ginny how to open a secret chamber with the intent of killing Muggleborns? Fourth, how could Malfoy's dad know about it when my father and him can't stand each other?"

The study area went silent at that.

"Oh," said Hermione. She cleared her throat as she went on. "Well, on the last two, I mean-- you have relatives other than your parents. Someone else could have taught Ginny. Isn't... erm. Isn't your family related to Malfoy's family?"

"No!" said Ron indignantly, but Draco nodded.

"They are. As mad as that is," Draco said, letting his head thump back against the wall, too.

"They are?" asked Harry, letting his head loll onto his shoulder to face Draco.

"Yes," said Draco calmly, doing the same in Harry's direction. "Weasley's aunt Prewett someone or another is married to Father's second cousin someone else. Or something."

Ron stared, clearly at a loss before finally shaking his head. "It's not Ginny. There's a whole list of Purebloods that were unaccounted for on all those occasions that have twisted family and reasons to want to kill. She's just a kid."

"Ron--" hazarded Hermione, though she didn't get much further.

"She's _not_ the Heir," growled Ron as he righted his chair and set it down with a loud crack. "Go back to Davis. How can we get her to talk?"

###

They'd agreed that Lockhart was for the most part useless-- or rather, the five of them had agreed, whereas Hermione merely questioned his teaching methods. Apparently she did not have it in her to be overly critical of their Defense instructor, likely because she was usually making a concerted effort not to turn giant cow eyes of adulation on him at every given opportunity.

Once excavated from the morass of self-love and bombast (which Ron was quick to dismiss as 'wank'), some of the methods described in Lockhart's books were actually of interest and had the potential to be useful. So when Lockhart called together a Dueling Club a week or so later, there was great interest in attending, given that it was patently clear that Lockhart himself couldn't possibly perform any of the curses or countercurses that he wrote about ('performance anxiety' said Hermione).

Oddly, After a bit of group revision, they also discovered that all six of them could. Even better, it was now _nine_ more often than not, now that Vince, Greg and Hannah were convinced for the most part that Hermione was in fact not the Heir, and that their help was vital for working out who in fact might be. They stood in a loose group beside the Dueling platform as Snape and Lockhart dueled, Hermione clearly torn as her Head of House bested Lockhart easily. Harry, Draco, Neville and Ron watched, equally torn, though more over not being able to decide who they wanted to see on their arse more. Pansy just looked bored as Crabbe and Goyle snickered, while Hannah chatted with a nearby Gryffindor, her head not coming back up until Lockhart had picked himself up and began speaking again.

"Potter, Malfoy, would you join me please for a demonstration?"

Grinning through an eye roll, Harry and Draco made to hop up onto the platform, but Snape spoke even as they straightened and stood fully.

"Surely Potter does not need the further practice. Perhaps Weasley would do as well?" Snape frowned as five heads came up expectantly. "The Ravenclaw," Snape added, put out at the need to clarify.

Lockhart nodded graciously to cover his obvious dread of the Potions Master. "Mister Weasley it is."

Harry shot a hateful look at Snape as he hopped back down. Ron clapped him on the shoulder with an apologetic half-shrug as he turned to climb up instead.

"Now! Let's Disarm only!" grinned Lockhart as he gestured for Ron to take his place.

"Mmm, no," said Snape through a very nasty smile. "I'm sure we can fix anything that goes terribly wrong. _I_ could, at least. Why don't we see what they can do?" Lockhart had no protest and Snape added blandly, "Nothing deadly, now, gentlemen."

Ron and Draco eyed one another warily, moving to stand back to back... or as near to it as they could get without actually touching. They walked ten paces out turned, facing one another in a traditional dueling stance, and when Lockhart counted three, the game was on.

Pansy, Harry, Hermione and Neville flinched at the violence with which the jinxes and hexes were being flung, though not at all surprised at the lengths to which Ron and Draco were willing to go to get a leg up on each other. Arms crossed, Snape stood impassive, and Lockhart vaguely horrified, yet neither made a move to intervene.

Eventually through the multi-colored smoke rising from the platform, Ron sprouted tentacles while Draco's robes suddenly fell from his shoulders and became a swarm of mice. No one but Harry knew that mice were probably one of the things that Draco found the most vile, tolerating Scabbers even less than he did its owner. When several of the mice began scaling his trousers, Draco's eyes widened. His chest hitched and he waved off the last of the green mucous bats surrounding his head as he raised his wand and spat out, " _Serpensortia_!"

The jet of light from Draco's wand solidified into the shape of a huge cobra that dropped heavily onto the platform and began moving toward Ron, hissing, hood opening. It was Ron's turn for his eyes to go comically wide, taking a step back, as Draco frantically Banished mice. When Pansy gasped, the cobra turned in her direction, and the person who had been standing next to her took an immediate side-step to place himself between Pansy and the snake. Harry's eyes darted from the cobra to the person long enough to realize that it was Justin Finch-Fletchley, the Muggle-born Gryffindor that had been chatting nearby with Hannah earlier in the evening.

Without a second thought, Harry called to the snake, "Wait! Don't hurt anyone!"

The snake couldn't be bothered to look at Harry as it flicked its tongue in Justin's direction. "But that one there got right in my way..." it hissed, head swaying.

"Don't," said Harry in a firm tone, oblivious to the fact that the room had gone dead silent, its occupants staring directly at him as he addressed the snake. "Listen, don't bite anyone, please. No one wants to hurt you."

"But look at his face!" pleaded the snake. "Has he wet himself? I think he has."

Harry gave him a tiny head shake. "No. No biting. I mean it."

With an expression that doubtless no one but Harry interpreted as a pout, the snake finally turned to Harry. "Fine. Ruin my fun. Any of those fat mice left?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer as the snake suddenly disappeared in a whoosh of flame and smoke, though the room remained as silent as it had been before Snape had uttered the curse to Banish it.

Justin turned on Harry and shoved him hard, sending him crashing into Neville. "What are you playing at, Potter?!" he snarled, and Harry registered that everyone around Justin (including Pansy and Hannah) were looking at him as though he'd grown a second head.

"Nothing!" Harry said as he regained his footing. "I just told it to--"

"I think that's enough for tonight," interrupted Snape, his eyes not leaving Harry. Draco slipped off the platform and landed lightly on his feet next to Harry, a spot on his jumper still smoldering.  
  
Harry tried again, but didn't get anywhere as another hand descended on the scruff of his neck and Cedric muttered, "Time to go, lads."

"Hey!" cried Draco, apparently similarly collared and still sounding a little congested. " _He_ 's the Parselmouth! I didn't do anything!"

"Move," growled Cedric, nearly pulling Harry off his feet as he shoved them forward. Harry shot a confused yet apologetic look in Draco's direction and the blond frowned even harder.

"Bugger it all. I had Weasley with that one, too," Draco muttered.

"Yeah," said Cedric as he gave Draco a shake while a rather helpful seventh year Hufflepuff opened the door to allow Cedric to continue dragging them along. "We're going to talk about that, too."


	2. Chapter 2

He was filthy and exhausted and in no way appreciative of having been tarred with the same brush as Potter, as usual. Of course, it's what came of having allied himself with the wanker to begin with. In the year since he had, however, Draco had discovered that even though it involved near-death on too many occasions, close association with The Boy Who Lived held more than enough perquisites to make up for it. At first, Draco's father had been highly pleased, but as time passed, he had become less enthralled - perhaps fearing Harry had more of an effect on Draco than the other way around. Given what they'd discovered about his house elf and the Chamber, and his own reaction to the news, Draco found himself agreeing with his father on what was perhaps their last point of commonality. Draco couldn't decide whether that was a drawback or a perquisite, and as such, had decided to reserve judgement on that topic for later.

For the most part, the git (that would be Potter) was actually fairly amusing company, too. Especially given that he never seemed to work out how the worms kept ending up in his shirt. The squirming and frequent shouting of, "UGH!" would have made the Weasley twins proud. Not that Draco cared, but the comparison was valid. And more importantly, _Draco_ was at least able to stay entertained as they worked like common peasants. The thought of which reminded him to huff dramatically and toss his spade into the planter.

"Damn Diggory anyway for giving us detention. Quidditch captain or not, he isn't even a Prefect. It's rubbish, if you ask me."

"It's not detention," grumbled Harry, sitting back on his heels and wiping his forehead on the sleeve of his coveralls, succeeding only in leaving a streak of dirt in its wake. "It's marching us to Professor Sprout and telling her that we're 'of a mind to help' and making it clear that we're to agree, if we value our skin."

"This is not news, Potter," frowned Draco. "It's not even proper griping."

"Sorry," Harry rolled his eyes, clearly not. "Distracted."

"Yeah, I'll say," Draco said, picking absently at the pile of weeds they'd pulled up. "Hey. Say something in Parseltongue. That'll be interesting."

"I don't know how," said Harry, annoyed. "We've gone over this."

Draco tilted his head without sympathy. "Yes, and I maintain that you do, as clearly you've done so in the past, and now you're just being thick. Try it."

"What good would that do?" shrugged Harry, his own spade hitting the edge of the planting box as he tossed it down. "You know, other than convince more people that I'm really the Heir?"

Waving it off with a supreme lack of concern, Draco said, "Pfft. _I_ know you're not. Imagine what you could get away with if everyone was afraid of you." His attention suddenly snapped back to Harry and he pointed decisively. "I won't be your minion, though. That's what the Gryffindors are for."

"I don't need _minions_ , git. I'm not the Heir and I'm not going to pretend to be." Harry didn't bother brushing the dirt from his knees as he stood and made his way to the cupboards near the door of the greenhouse. He took two pairs of earmuffs from within and tossed one pair roughly to Draco. "Time to see to the mandrakes. And stop bloody well spelling the worms into my shirt. They're slimy."

Draco frowned, snapped the ear muffs on and scooped up his spade, entirely unimpressed. What was the point of all that power if you weren't even going to use it? He sighed heavily and followed Harry to the planting beds topped with rustling leaves at the far end of the room, and it had never been so apparent that it wasn't the desire to work hard that had landed him in Hufflepuff. Privately, he was beginning to worry that it might be loyalty and steadfastness and all that rot that had put him there, and frankly, that was disturbing, too.

Suppressing a shudder, Draco took Professor Sprout's note from Harry and scanned it for the next instruction.

###

Trudging. Ugh, so much trudging.

Four hours of a perfectly good Friday night that could have been spent flying or revising, or --it was radical, Harry knew-- lying about doing absolutely nothing, wasted in favor of what amounted to remedial Herbology. And then there was the requisite long walk back to the dorms, which then clearly gave way to the grubby, dispirited trudging.

It took Harry a second to register that Draco had stopped and was staring at the windowsill. It might have taken a few more steps to notice, had it not been for the wet crunch under his foot that made him step back immediately, too tired to even mutter another 'ugh'.

They watched in silence as the column of spiders crossed the corridor, moved up the wall and out the window. And then stepped over it with a mutual shrug and kept moving. They'd both seen stranger things.

About ten meters further down the corridor, Harry's head snapped up again as he heard the sibilant voice he recognized, threatening death. He grabbed Draco's arm and hissed, "Did you hear that?"

Draco swatted his hand away. "Oh fine. Do it now when I'm too tired to be properly impressed."

"I'm not doing anything," Harry said, confused. "I'm talking about the voice."

"No, you weren't. You were _hissing_ about it," said Draco. "As in, using Parseltongue."

Harry stared. "That still doesn't make sense. How do I speak a language accidentally and only when it's convenient?"

Ever more disgusted, Draco sneered, though the effect was lost to a yawn. "Welcome to Hogwarts. Can I please go to bed, now?"

"It's not--" Harry stopped dead in his tracks at the top of the staircase. "Oh. Shite."

Draco followed his line of sight, eyebrows crawling upward at the body on the ground, lying under a hovering mass of... something transparent that looked like... "Nearly Headless Nick?"

Harry knelt on the ground next to the body. "And Finch-Fletchley." Looking up, he added, "Petrified."

"Should have known it was the two of you," came Filch's voice. "Weren't happy with my Mrs. Norris and the lad with the camera, no. But you've been caught red-handed now."

"We didn't--!" Harry said in a panic as his head snapped up.

"What? Don't be ridiculous," sneered Draco, though equally stressed.

"Professor Dumbledore'll be wanting to see the both of you now, I think," grimaced Filch. "Oh yeah. Got you both this time for certain. You'll pay for what you've done."

###

Harry flopped onto his bed. "This sucks."

"What? At least Dumbledore doesn't think we did it," said Draco as he flopped in his own bed opposite Harry. "Sorry - he doesn't think _you_ did it."

"Shut up," said Harry, half-muffled through his comforter. "He doesn't think you did it either."

"Yeah? What was all that about, 'are you sure you don't know anything else, Mr. Malfoy?' and 'My great, scary phoenix is going to peck your eyes out for lying' and 'You know your father is a murderer, don't you, Mr. Malfoy?' and --"

"He didn't say that!" said Harry, indignant, his head popping right back up.

"He may as well have!" Draco fumed, arms crossed tightly.

"Dumbledore isn't a _Slytherin_. He would have come out and said that if that's what he meant," Harry said, sitting up again. "Why would you even think that? When has he ever accused you of anything we didn't actually do?"

"He doesn't have to say it, _Potter_ ," scowled Draco. "I can see it on his face."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Then you should look more closely, _Malfoy_."

Anthony's head popped out from behind his bed curtains, looking a little fearful. "You're not really the Heir, are you, Harry?"

"NO," both Harry and Draco shouted, too occupied with glaring at one another to bother looking at Anthony, whose head popped directly back into the confines of his bed curtains in record time.

"What the devil is your problem anyway?" asked Harry.

Draco took hold of his bed curtains and shut them with a violent snap.

"Fine. I hope Fawkes _does_ peck your eyes out!" Harry growled.

Not bothering to pull the curtains, Draco spat, "Piss directly off."

"Whatever," Harry said as he shut his own drapes and fell back onto his pillows.

###

Ron slid into the seat across from Harry, sparing a glare for Draco (who had mysteriously set aside his problem come morning) as he set his bookbag down on the table between them.

"Polyjuice. That's how we get Davis to talk."

Harry tilted his head. "Poly-what?"

"Polyjuice. It's a potion that allows the user to become someone else for exactly one hour," supplied Hermione from her spot a little further down the library table that had mysteriously grown in size since they'd begun using it as a home base. "Only, it takes a month to brew, and I've no idea where you plan to get Boomslang skin, and no idea who you think she'd talk to other than Brown."

Ron pointed. "You're in with Snape, and he's got to have it in his stores."

"What?!" said Hermione barely above a scandalized whisper. "You're seriously suggesting I steal from Professor Snape's private stores?"

"For a good cause!" said Ron. "It's the only way we'll get her to talk." He added, a little more disgruntled, "Don't know why you didn't suggest it, if you knew about it."

"Because it's mad," Hermione said, brow furrowed. "And again, who would we get to impersonate Brown, anyway?"

Pansy spoke up. "I can do it. The only fear there would be that I couldn't quite lower myself to the required level of gauche. But I'll manage. I've got stage experience."

"Music recitals hardly count," Draco muttered, but Ron spoke right over him.

"See? Sorted," Ron said with some satisfaction. "If we get started as soon as possible, we can get it done by the time everyone's back from winter hols. When can you get it?"

Hermione opened her mouth, but Neville spoke first. "Tomorrow during Potions. I'll... create a diversion to keep him busy and Hermione can slip by and get it."

"You heard what he said last time, Neville, you can't--" Hermione hissed.

Neville shrugged. "This is important. He can give me all the detention he wants."

"See? He doesn't mind," said Ron, insisent. "Tomorrow?"

After a heavy pause, Hermione nodded, though she was still glaring. "Fine. I still think it's ridiculous, but I'll do it. We don't seem to be getting anywhere otherwise."

Harry held up his hand. "One question. Exactly where are we setting up a potions experiment that will go undisturbed for a month?"

###

Draco came to two conclusions: First, that it was a blessing that Moaning Myrtle stuck to her toilet, because if she wandered the school, she'd be terrifying. Second, he was nicking a bit of that Polyjuice once it was done, because there were a few people he'd like to impersonate for fun and profit. He couldn't come up with any just yet, but all he needed was a little time to think about who.

In the end, Christmas was brilliant, as he managed to stay at school again for the hols. The usual haul had been dropped off by way of house elf, along with presents for Harry, too, and more gifts and sweets from friends and even Weasleys. No one had ended up Petrified or worse, and he hadn't had to look his father in the eye once, thereby avoiding having to wonder what the man was planning...

He was definitely going to nick some of that Polyjuice.

###

Pansy rushed down the corridor toward Myrtle's bathroom, consciously angling her face toward the wall in case anyone saw her, but no one did. She shoved the door open and immediately looked in the mirror to make sure her face and hair were back to normal, and was struck by the image of herself in a Slytherin uniform, wondering what it would have been like if she'd--

"Pansy!"

Her head snapped up, and Ron was staring at her expectantly. "Well?"

Stripping off the jumper and tossing it back to Hermione, Pansy said, "Nothing. It's not her. That stupid cow thinks it's terribly entertaining, and has convinced Brown and Midgen that they'll be safe if they stick with her, but she knows nothing." She pulled the tie off next, letting it dangle from her fingers. "So we're back to square one."

Harry swore and ran a hand down his face. "Alright. Let's... I don't know. How long will this keep, Hermione?"

"Indefinitely, as far as I understand it," said Hermione, pulling her jumper back on over her head, "as long as it's stored properly." She added in a grumble under her breath, "unlike Mandrake juice."

"Good idea," said Draco as he shifted closer to the cauldron. "We can try it on someone else after we look at the list."

Ron and Neville looked up from where they had been murmuring since Pansy's return. "I've got a suggestion," said Ron.

"Excellent," Draco said, ignoring the fact that Pansy was now staring in confusion at his agreeing with Ron. "I'll bottle this and we'll set to work on nicking a bit of whomever we settle on next."

"Right," said Ron, just as confused as he withdrew the list from his pocket. "Remember the Gryffindor match--"

###

January passed without any leads. It wasn't the quiet, creepy Lisa Turpin, or the smug Ernie Macmillan; Blaise Zabini proved to know nothing, and all Zacharias Smith seemed to do was shrug. There were no more attacks and the mandrakes were almost at full potency. In short, something big was about to go down, and yet they still had revision and essays and Quidditch to tend to.

When Pansy's mother asked her what sorts of clubs she intended on joining, Pansy wrote the first (mostly) true thing that came to mind.

_"I'm already in one, Mother, though it's more of an Independent Research club. We focus on multiple disciplines in mixed-house groups. It's very... enriching. And honestly, leaves very little time for anything else."_

###

The Hufflepuff/Slytherin match happened in the first week of February, and Ginny sat squarely in the center of Slytherin stands watching closely, her attention only drawn away from the Pitch as Luna wandered up grinning and began to speak without preamble.

"I'm afraid that this year, the race for the Cup will come down to Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. I understand that this comes as a great disappointment to Slytherins everywhere, as they're used to being the foil to Gryffindor's antics. I suppose they'll get over it." She turned her attention from the Pitch to Ginny as she sat down on the bench next to her. "Does it?"

"Well," said Ginny, a little distracted by the action on the field. "It'd be nice if the team was good enough to give either some real competition." With a disgusted wave in the direction of the Pitch, she added, "They're not so sloppy they couldn't play past it, but the Seeker is too slow and the Keeper is too easily distracted. It's easy to see why-- Oh Bollocks!" she shouted, shaking a fist as Hufflepuff scored again. "Pay attenion, you utter meathead!" Frowning she went on, "I swear. Next year I'm trying out for the team and I'm going to fly circles around them all. And we'll get _those_ prats," she said, pointing as Ian, Harry and Draco swooped past.

"They're not the whole team, you know," observed Luna.

"I wasn't talking about _them_ specifically," Ginny said, flushing even as she crossed her arms defensively.

"Oh," said Luna with a sage nod. "I see." She pulled a small package from the pocket of her robes and handed it to Ginny. "Here."

Ginny took it with a dubious yet pleased half-smile. "What is it?"

"Questions like that tend to be answered once the intervening wrapping paper has been removed," Luna said.

"Err. OK," Ginny murmured as she ripped the brown paper back. " _The Prince_?"

"Yes. Machiavelli. It's background reading for you. On being a Slytherin," said Luna, beaming. "I understand that it may have been written as a satire, but the theories expounded upon are ambitious indeed."

Ginny tilted her head, caught between reactions. "Thanks."

Luna tapped the cover. "You'll find that this is one of those friendly books despite its less-than-friendly content. It came from my mother's library."

Blinking, Ginny made to give the book back. "I can't take that, Luna. Your mum's--"

"Dead, I know. But she would have approved, I think." Luna said. "She was a Slytherin, too, did you know?"

"I wasn't going to say _that_. Exactly," muttered Ginny, feeling rather stupid for being shocked at anything Luna might say. "And wow. No. Are you serious?"

"Yes, absolutely," Luna grinned. "Dad was a Hufflepuff." After a brief pause to accomodate Ginny's staring in disbelief, she laughed. "Exactly. But I promise that book is friendly. Consider it a conciliatory gesture on behalf of reading material everywhere. I'm sure the one that offended you was just a rude anomaly."

Ginny looked down at the book again, all the humor gone from her eyes. "Wrong tense."

"Oh," said Luna, unphased. "Well, my father says that if something in your life is causing you unhappiness, you should either discpline it, apologize to it, or get rid of it, with the last option not applicable to anyone related by blood."

"Funny. I think my mum might appreciate that," said Ginny, her eyes still on the book, though she was clearly in deep thought.

Luna suddenly grabbed Ginny's arm, pointing at the Pitch with her free hand. "Look! Did you see that?"

"Gee Luna, that was a subtle distraction, there," Ginny said, rolling her eyes.

"Yes," said Luna sagely. "But Hufflepuff _did_ score again."

Ginny groaned, "Bloody hell."

"Mmm, no," Luna said as she watched the players head for the goals again. "I'd blame that on the Keeper."

###

"Is it safe to come out yet?"

Ron peered out of the door just barely cracked open. "I don't see anyone else out th-- shite!" He slammed the door shut but it was too late. The door was yanked open unceremoniously and another figure squeezed into the small room, pulling the door shut behind.

The shape was unrecognizable until the person spoke, at which three heads snapped around in Hermione's direction as she whispered, "Lumos," adjusted her skirt and sat on an overturned pail. "I'm not going out there again until the pink dies down or until we can work out a way around it. It's frightening, really. You'd think Professor Lockhart would have better taste than that." Peering around the large closet, she suddenly looked a confused. "Where's Malfoy?"

"Lost to the opposing side. Pansy grabbed him early and dragged him out to the party," said Harry, affecting sympathy, yet clearly amused. "Said something about his being her appointed escort for Valentine's Day."

Hermione snorted indelicately. "Figures."

Arching an eyebrow at her, Ron looked confused. "Shouldn't you be out there... I don't know. Giggling and eating chocolate and siccing cupids on unsuspecting Professors? ...err. Blokes."

Unamused, Hermione set her bookbag on her lap. "I hardly think _giggling_ is something I do well. And those cupids are frankly a little disturbing." She pulled a paper sack from her bag and offered it to Harry first. "Anyway, I'm not lacking in chocolate."

Neville barked a laugh before covering his mouth with his hand, remember they were hiding out. "I was wondering when you planned to share those."

Grinning, Harry pulled a heart-shaped lump of chocolate from the bag and passed it to Ron, who was still shaking his head at Hermione. "At least we won't starve while devising an escape plan."

Hermione unwrapped her own chocolate and held it out in a determined, almost military gesture. "About that--"

###

The four of them skidded to a halt as they rounded the corner at the end of the corridor, out of breath from both running and laughing. Harry slammed into the wall hands outstetched and Neville, Ron and Hermione followed, jostling him and one another with another outburst of hysterical laughter that could not be suppressed. The sounds of confusion behind them were just beginning to die down.

Hermione spun to lean against the wall properly, speaking through another snickerfit. "We're free! Of course, now we'll have to--" Her brow furrowed as she trailed off and straightened up and pointed. "What's that?"

Following her line of sight, Harry moved to the front of the group automatically. "Water, it looks like." As he moved torward the source, he tilted his head. "Myrtle's bathroom?"

"She's flooded it again," sighed Hermione. "Let's just go. You know how... _high strung_ she gets when she's upset... Harry?"

Already pushing open the door, Harry felt as though he was being drawn to something just out of reach. He could hear the others following him but his focus was on... whatever it was that was calling to him. As Myrtle shouted at Ron, he walked down to the furthest cubicle stopping when he caught sight of a small leather-bound book lying in a puddle. As Harry knelt to carefully retrieve it, Neville's voice sounded quietly from just over his shoulder.

"Picking things up out of puddles in bathrooms is maybe not the best of ideas, Harry."

"Huh," Harry murmured noncommittally as he ignored Neville, turned the book over and read the engraved script. "Tom M. Riddle? He's not a student, is he?"

Neville frowned in thought. "Not that I know of. And definitely not a Slytherin." As Harry flipped the book open, Neville reached over Harry's shoulder with his wand and murmured, " _Scourgify_ ," shrugging it off when Harry shot an eyebrow up at him. "Habit. Gran is... a little mad about cleanliness. And seriously-- you don't know where that's been."

With a small snort of laughter, Harry turned his attention to the book, frowning to see that all of the pages so far were blank, despite the fact that it was clearly rather old.

"Harry!" said Myrtle, easily gaining his attention with her unnaturally shrill whine. "That's the book, there. Awful, horrible thing."

"Huh?" he managed, not having been paying attention to her conversation with Ron and Hermione.

"The book!" Myrtle said, getting a little louder and a little more annoyed. "The one they threw at me!"

"Oh! That book!" Harry said trying to look both serious and outraged on her behalf. "That's just... terrible," he said, managing to remain straight-faced even though Ron was making faces behind her. "Who, um-- who threw it, again? I should talk to them about that. It's just-- rude. Rude, is what it is."

"Oh! How very gallant of you," sighed Myrtle, head tilited as she floated up closer to Harry, who flinched but resisted taking a step back. "Only, I don't know. I was in the U-bend, you see, and by the time I came out to make my _angry_ face, they were gone."

Harry blinked and swallowed and realized he was standing as far back on his heels as he could get while remaining upright. "That's a shame. But um, we'll keep an eye out, alright?" He finally hazarded a sidestep toward the door, holding the book up slightly. "We'll just have to work out who this belongs to."

Myrtle sighed disturbingly, holding her clasped hands just under her chin. "Oh Harry. You're such a hero!" she shrilled, holding the 'o' as she flew up and arched backward diving into her cubicle.

Trying not to laugh, Ron covered his mouth as Hermione prodded him and said, "Move. Time to go." Pursing her lips, Hermione peered a little more closely at Harry as they exited the bathroom, ducking her head to ask, "Alright, Harry?"

"I saw her angry face," he said tonelessly, finally turning to look at Hermione. "It was horrifying."

"And she's gone over you, too, mate," said Ron, artlessly elbowing Harry as he fell into step beside him.

" _Anyway_ ," Hermione rolled her eyes and pointed at the book clutched in Harry's white-knuckled grasp. "What's that?"

###

Harry and Draco stalked into the library, Draco in the lead for once as they rounded the far stacks and crossed the Imperturbable Charm that was probably permanently in place by now. Draco slammed his book bag down onto the table. "I knew that oaf was trouble."

Looking up at the slam, Hermione frowned, unimpressed. "Oaf?"

Clearly agitated, Harry stopped short of the chair next to Draco. "Tom Riddle preserved some of his memories in that book we found in Myrtle's bathroom. One of them happens to be of Hagrid... being caught with the monster from the Chamber. It's why he was expelled and why Riddle got a Special Award for Services to the School. Only, there's got to be some sort of explanation."

"Yes, given he's a half-giant and clearly not a Pureblood," said Hermione, holding her hand out. "Well, give it here, let's have a look."

"Can't," scowled Draco.

"Owing to the fact that someone broke into our dormitory and tore apart my stuff to get it back just this morning," said Harry, shoving his own bag onto the table.

Ron interrupted the shocked murmur around the table. "Who said it had to be a Pureblood anyway? I mean, what if Slytherin had... I don't know. Illegitimate children or something?"

The silence ensuing might have been funerary had it not been for the rustling of pages in a faraway location of the library.

"I suppose we should reexamine our search criteria," ventured Hermione.

"Yes, and we should put Hagrid at the top of the new list of suspects," said Pansy, wrists crossed over her book. "After all, he _is_ part of the staff-- he would have been able to get into the Hufflepuff dormitories."

Harry sighed. "I don't know. Maybe we should just _ask_ him what happened?" Five arched eyebrows fixed on Harry and he shrugged. "What? I'll do it!"

"Because he'd just come out and tell you if he was," said Draco.

"Point," Harry said, sinking dispiritedly into the seat in front of him. "You have a better suggestion?"

At that, Draco slumped into his own seat, kicking the table leg in the process. "Not one."

###

"Make way for the Heir of Slytherin!" shouted one Weasley twin as Harry and Draco made their way from Hufflepuff house to the Pitch for the last match of February --Ravenclaw/Slytherin-- fully entrenched in in a discussion on Chasing tactics. Ian had declined to join them, though he swore he it had more to do with Sally Ann Perks than Harry's purported tendency toward petrifaction of his classmates.

"Fitting legacy that the Heir should be a Hufflepuff," shouted the other, even as Harry rolled his eyes and offered up a rude gesture.

"I'm not the Heir, fools," Harry grumbled, taking a page out of Cedric's book and trying to shrug it off, rather than make the attempt to beat them senseless.

"Don't be modest, Potter," smirked Draco as they paused at the edge of the Pitch to see which stands their friends had chosen to cheer from. "Just put them on your to-be-petrified list and be done with it."

Harry thumped him too hard as Fred and George disappeared back into the nearest bank of milling students alternately taking bets and going on about fearing the Evil Badger. "Very funny, Malfoy. Now if you'd..." he trailed off. "What's going on there?"

Draco furrowed his brow at the parting crowd, all shooting the dirtiest looks at him and Harry. Professor McGonagall finally bustled through, Neville and Pansy in tow as she called out through her large purple megaphone, "This match has been cancelled! All students, please proceed directly back to your common rooms at once!"

"What happened?" hissed Draco, taking hold of Pansy's arm as she passed.

Pansy shrugged, looking lost and worried. McGonagall paused in her progress to study Harry and Draco for a moment before finally speaking. "The two of you may as well come along, too."

With a confused shrug, Draco fell in step beside Pansy, holding out his elbow to her after a beat, which she took after smacking him with a small smile. Harry in the meantime dropped behind them and murmured, "Hey," in Neville's direction.

Neville ceased chewing his lip long enough to spare a glance for Harry. "This can't be good."

###

The four of them stood gobsmacked in the infirmary, clustered in a knot between two beds, their eyes darting from the one that held a petrified Hermione to the other holding an equally petrified Ron.

"We found them just outside the library," said Professor McGonagall, severe, yet in a more gentle tone than any of them had ever heard her use. "Miss Granger was holding this," she added, holding up a small silver hand mirror. "Does it mean anything to any of you?"

Neville hazarded a hand to Pansy's shoulder as they all shook their heads. Harry looked over to Draco who caught it easily and took the opportunity to frown more deeply as he said, "Potter and I were in the common room the whole time. There were witnesses--"

"Calm yourself, Mr. Malfoy. You already know neither of you are suspect." Professor McGonagall exhaled a heavy sigh and set the mirror down on the side table. "Have you any idea what they may have been doing in the library?"

"Light reading?" muttered Harry.

"Hermione said she needed to grab a book on mythological creatures, for the um... project that she's working on," said Neville with a significant look for Harry and Draco, who hadn't been there at the time. "She said she thought she'd made a discovery. Ron offered to help look."

Pansy swallowed and lifted her chin. "It doesn't make sense. Ron's a Pureblood."  
  
"But Miss Granger is decidedly not," said the Professor, clasping her hands in front of her skirt as their eyes snapped up to her. "You didn't think your professors wouldn't know?"

Silence descended over the students again. Professor McGonagall reached out and laid a hand on Harry's head in what seemed was almost a fond gesture. With a reassuring nod and a pat as he looked up, she released him and sighed again. "I've got to get back to the Library. If you think of anything else, let me or the Headmaster know?"

Harry ran a hand through his hair as he stared after her, wondering what McGonagall had been on about, given that she'd never done much other than glare at him. As usual it was Draco that startled him out of his thoughts with a smack to the arm. "Maybe _she_ 's the Heir. No doubt she was around fifty years ago."

Eyes on an unnaturally stiff and pale Hermione, Harry set his jaw. "You're right. And Ron was right. _Is_ right. It could be anyone. We need to talk to Hagrid."

###

Harry and Draco exited the infirmary only to find a knot of students crowding the corridor. Harry's eyes went wide and Draco surreptitiously side stepped to end up a little behind him. Hannah stepped up, Vince and Greg at her elbows as usual, and opened her mouth to speak, but she was drowned out by a loud hiss from somewhere at the back of the crowd.

"Oi, now," Hannah said as she turned and stood straighter, managing somehow to look taller and less as though she only came up to Greg's elbow. "If they'd done it, do you think Dumbledore'd let them walk around and do it again? Think, people. And then go away." With an exasperated sigh, she returned her attention to Harry, though Vince and Greg continued to glare at the assembled students as they began to disperse slowly. "How, um-- how are they?"

"Petrified, Abbott," said Draco, unimpressed. "So, a lot like statuary at the moment."

Harry spared a glare for Draco, but he wasn't wrong, just caustic. "What he said," grumbled Harry.

Frowning, Hannah set her hands on her hips. "What are we going to do about it?"

"Go talk to Hagrid. Find out what he knows," Harry said under his breath. "Regroup, and try and come up with something once we know what he does."

"You forgot 'possibly be pounded flat by the Heir of Slytherin'," said Draco. "That's my least favorite bit."

"Alright. I'm coming with you," whispered Hannah with a decisive nod. She glanced over her shoulder and called out to Vince and Greg, "Boys-- fancy a walk about the grounds?"

They looked at each other and shrugged. "Alright," said Greg.

"Yeah," added Vince. "That sounds ok."

Harry glanced up at the window deciding that they had enough daylight to get down to Hagrid's hut without needing the Invisibility cloak and shrugged, too. "Fine. Let's go."

Falling in step beside Harry, Hannah looked over at him and murmured, "You alright, really?"

Draco didn't hear the answer for all his grimacing displeasure at how he'd somehow ended up in the 'minion' spot behind them. He looked up again to find Vince and Greg on either side and was immediately heartened, startled to find that he felt right at home with minions of his own.

"We going to pound someone flat, Draco?" asked Vince, looking rather too enthused at the prospect. "I heard something about it back there."

Lifting his chin a little, Draco smirked. "Hopefully not. But if there's a need, we'll give you two the first shot."

"See?" Greg grinned widely. "I keep telling Hannah you're alright."

###

Luna walked down the dungeon corridor toward the Slytherin dorms, hoping that once she got there someone would at least agree to call Ginny for her. A shape making its way toward her in the gloom looked familiar, and Luna peered hard to try and make it out.The attitude was wrong, as was the expression, but Luna called out to her anyway.

"Ginny! Hello! I was looking for you. I was worried--" From closer up, Ginny's eyes looked red-rimmed and tired and the white-knuckled fingers of one hand were clutching a small black book to her chest just as tightly as the other held her wand. Luna tilted her head and murmured, "Is that the rude book, then?"

Arm shaking, Ginny brought her wand up, exhaling a shaky, teary, "I'm sorry," before her eyes hardened unnaturally, her mouth twisting into an ugly smile. "I'm really very sorry my pet isn't here to deal with you, mad girl."

"Oh. You're not Ginny at all," Luna said, showing just a little bit of uncharacteristic anger. "You give her back right now."

Ginny laughed a laugh that did not belong to Ginny as she stunned Luna and continued in a beeline for the second floor girl's lavatory.

###

The sun was just about to set as Draco shoved the door of the infirmary open, Harry, Hannah, Vince and Greg right behind him.

"Hagrid didn't do it," said Harry. "The creature that Riddle caught him with was an acromantula that he bought off of a dodgy trader in Hogsmeade."

"And apparently, they're terrified of whatever the monster actually is--" added Hannah, stopping short in the face of finally seeing Ron and Hermione petrified, eyes widening as she murmured, "Oh my God."

"And truly, if he was the Heir of Slytherin, old Salazar would have come back personally to end the line," said Draco as he rounded the foot of Ron's bed, knuckles rapping against his petrified foot with a solid clacking sound, tilting his head at Hannah. "What?"

Neville shot a look at Pansy, who immediately stood and held out a crumpled piece of paper. "Then it all fits." Harry took it from her and Draco moved close enough to read over his shoulder. "We found it in Hermione's hand," Pansy continued. "It's a page out of the book she was looking for. One can only guess just how agitated she was if she _ripped_ it out instead of copying it."

Draco pointed around Harry's arm as he read, " _Its methods of killing are most wondrous, for aside from its deadly and venomous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death_. Oh yeah-- 'wondrous'. Of course spiders flee before it. As should we all."

"And the bit about the roosters," said Neville as he moved closer to point at two scrawls close to the bottom of the page. "And look at that--"

"--I don't even know what that says," said Hannah, who had finally shaken off the shock and had squeezed between Harry and Neville. Tilting her head, she murmured, "Pups? Plops?"

"Pipes," sighed Pansy. "It's Ron's handwriting."

"If you can call it that," murmured Draco, and Hannah unexpectedly snickered.

"I know, right?"

Harry shook his head and stepped back, leaving the page in Draco's hand. "Focus. It's a snake, which explains the voices I was hearing the days there were attacks. And pipes-- that must be how it's getting around without anyone seeing it."

"Yes, but who's opening the Chamber?" sighed Hannah, throwing up a hand. "And where the devil is it?"

Harry furrowed his brow and pointed again. "Pansy, what does the second one say?"

Crossing her arms and tilting her head, generally appearing rather smug, Pansy said, "Myrtle."

Draco's head popped up, speaking before giving it a thought, "I did hear Father say that last time the Chamber was opened, a Mud- Muggleborn died." As he realized what he'd said, he pulled his lower lip between his teeth, but Pansy spoke again before anyone else could point it out.

"And have you seen her collar on her uniform and the style of her fringe? It's very much straight out of the forties."

Greg blinked. "The ghost girl in the toilet?"

"She seemed nice, and also a little mad," said Vince. "Like that firstie with the googly specs. What's her name?"

Harry smacked the palm of his hand against his forehead. "Myrtle was the first victim."

"And there are tons of pipes in a bathroom," said Neville.

"Oi. Then why aren't they dead, too?" said Greg, looking around the infirmary.

"Because no one saw it directly," said Draco, clearing his throat. "Weasley and Granger had the mirror."

"Creevey had his camera," said Harry. "And Justin-- he saw it _through_ Nearly Headless Nick!"

Vince pointed to Mrs. Norris, lying stiff in the cat bed at the end of the row of regular beds. "Clever thing, she was, then. What'd she use?"

Harry caught Draco's eye as they said at the same time, "The water."

"It was on the ground when we found her--" said Harry.

Draco finished the thought, "--in front of Myrtle's bathroom. Of course."

"Ok, _that_ was scary," frowned Hannah. "No more Weasleyspeak, either of you. Or you're disowned."

"Seconded," said Pansy, rifling through her book bag before finally coming up with a mirror. "Sounds like it's time to talk to Myrtle."

"Well. Whoever the Heir is, we know one more thing about them," shrugging, Neville pulled the mirror that Hermione had been holding off of the side table and came forward, casting a glance at Harry. "They're a Parselmouth, too."

"Excellent," said Draco, having fully regained his composure. "Potter here will finally have someone to practice on." Ignoring Harry's dirty look, he gestured for Pansy and Neville to precede them, voice only hitching a bit as Harry elbowed him hard in passing. "After you."

###

Pansy and Neville held the mirrors around every corner they came to, though they hadn't run into any trouble at all on the way to the second floor. In fact, they didn't run into any _one_ at all, given that everyone was to be in their common rooms come nightfall. When they reached the spot where Mrs. Norris had been found, Harry cocked his head to one side and held a hand up. "Shh! Did you hear that?!"

"Hear what?" asked Neville.

"Oh hell," murmured Draco. "I've learned that when Potter hears things you can't, it's probably a snake doing the talking."

A loud sob and a broken, eerily familiar voice crying, "No! No you can't! I won't!" came from Myrtle's bathroom, and Harry's eyes went wide. He grabbed the mirror out of Neville's hand and rushed forward, thowing open the door and holding the mirror out, expecting the worst. Harry's jaw went slack as he took in what he saw. "Ginny?" he breathed, letting go of the mirror and rushing into the room.

"Potter!" shouted Draco, though it did nothing to stop Harry. Swearing, he followed at a run, wand in hand and not looking anywhere but the ground

Ginny was at that moment climbing feet first into a pipe behind the furthest sink in the bathroom, though tears were streaming down her face. As Harry entered the room, her head snapped up and she held her hand out to him, her eyes huge and pleading. "Help me?"

Harry ran forward and reached for her hand, only managing to catch her jumper as she began to slide.

"I didn't mean to do it! Don't let me, go, Harry!" cried Ginny through thick tears, shifting her hand to be able to grab onto him. "Please!"

He tried to adjust his grip on her arm as Draco ran up and caught her other hand. Sliding further, Ginny screamed and clawed at the hands in her grasp. Draco hissed as her nails dug into his forearm and wrist as Harry dropped his wand to try and use both hands.

Suddenly, Ginny smirked. "Bye, Harry," she said with a dirty leer and let go of both him and Draco, falling down the pipe and completely out of sight, a chorus of gasps from behind them the only indication that they were no longer the only ones in the room.

"Alright. That was disturbing," said Draco, pointing at the pipe. "And you know the Weasel is going to blame me for losing his sister."

"Hermione was right," Harry said blankly. "It was Ginny all along." He turned his attention to Draco and frowned. "We have to go after her."

"Huh?" Draco murmured, pulling his sleeve down over his hand as he glanced back toward the pipe. "You want to go down there?"

A loud rumbling sound sent Harry scrambling for his wand as the sink rearranged itself and obscured the pipes again.

"...Or not," said Hannah from behind them.

"No," said Harry, shaking his head. "No-- I can open it."

Draco grimaced. "Bloody hell."

Harry wheeled on him. "Fine, Malfoy. Stay here and whine at Myrtle, but I'm going after her. Or make yourself useful and go get the Headmaster."

"Piss off, Potter," snarled Draco. "If you can do it, so can I. Now open it and let's get going." Under his breath, he added, "Can't very well let it eat her, anyway."

"Well _someone_ should get the Headmaster, or a teacher, or _someone_ a little more qualified than you to deal with a giant snake," frowned Pansy. "But I'm coming with you two."

"What? No--" Draco began, but Pansy cut him off.

"Shut up. Ron's petrified and he can't pull his big brother act, and that means it's my job to stand in." She grimaced, "Even if it means that filthy pipe, which he _is_ going to owe me quite a lot for."

"I don't know about going down there after someone that's been setting a Basilisk on Muggleborns," said Hannah with a dubious shrug at the look on Harry and Neville's faces. "What? You saw her, she went down there on her own free will. But I _will_ go for help."

Greg and Vince looked from Draco to Hannah and back before shrugging too. "We'll go with her."

"Well then?!" said Pansy, hands on her hips in a gesture of supreme impatience. "Go already."


	3. Chapter 3

Hannah came skidding around the corner on the way up to the staff lounge, stopping short as she caught sight of Professor McGonagall ushering Professor Flitwick in and shutting the door with a surreptitious look around the corridor.

"There," she whispered to Greg and Vince just now catching up. "Come on--" She crept up to the lounge door in time to hear that the plan was to send everyone home, and that Lockhart had been sent to deal with the monster. Her shoulders slumped.

"Lockhart's more useless than we are, Hannah," said Greg, brow furrowed deeply.

"You aren't useless at all," Hannah hissed, pointing vehemently at Greg. "But Lockhart's thicker than a post, yes."

"Even the Headmaster wouldn't believe us, probably," said Vince quietly, jerking his head in the direction of the lounge. "They'd just tell us to go back to Gryffindor and wait."

Hannah frowned again, thinking. "Alright. You heard them. Lockhart's going to try and find the Chamber, at least we can tell him where it is and what the monster is. Ugh. I suppose then we'll have to go with him and watch his back," she said, determined, yet unenthused. "Maybe he'll know how to kill it, even if he can't do it himself. And he knows he needs the help-- he won't tell us to bugger off."

Greg and Vince exchanged a glance and then nodded.

"Ok," said Greg. "We can do that."

"Let's go," Vince murmured, looking up and down the corridor before pointing toward the Defense classroom.

Hannah beamed and set off at a run, the boys on her heels but lagging behind. She threw the door of the classroom open and ran through it all the way to the back steps to the office, shoving that door open as well. "Professor Lockhart!" Hannah gasped, breathless, "The Chamber! We know where it is! And it's Ginny Weasley that's been taken-- Professor?"

Lockhart's eyes were huge over the pile of robes in his arms, two large trunks open at his feet. "Err," he managed as he dropped them into a trunk. "Hello!"

Through the open door beyond, Hannah could see that his private rooms had been stripped bare as well. "You're not-- leaving are you?"

"Well, you see," hedged Lockhart, clasping his hands through a winning grin. "I've been called away, unfortunately..."

Having finally caught up with Hannah, Greg and Vince were halfway up the stairs just in time to hear her raise her voice. "You can't leave! You're the Defense professor! You have to save her! And probably Potter and Malfoy while you're at it."

Lockhart narrowed his eyes. "I don't have to do anything of the sort! I signed up to talk about myself for a year, not fight monsters!"

Greg and Vince paused just outside and waited. They weren't the most brilliant Gryffindors ever, but they knew danger when they heard it. Their families had given them ample experience with just that.

Hannah, however, wondered where they'd gotten off to even as she crossed her arms and glared at Lockhart. "How'd you manage all that stuff in your books, if you're such a great, useless pansy, hmm? _Did_ you even manage it?"

"Funny you should ask," said Lockhart, bending to tuck the robes into the chest more neatly. "Because you see--" he said as he stood again, wand suddenly in hand and already advancing on her. "Under other circumstances, I might not have resisted the opportunity to explain. But your cheek is absolutely inexcusable."

Taking a step back, Hannah reached for her own wand with a defiant lift to her chin. "Why should I be afraid of you? You can't even Banish Pixies."

"Memory charms, little girl," he grinned nastily, taking a fast step forward to pin her against the wall next to where his huge mirror was propped and already edged with packing material. "Fight me and I'll make it so you don't even remember how to speak. Because I assure you, I'm more proficient at those than I am in signing my name."

"You're disgusting," Hannah snarled, pausing in her effort to pull away as the tip of his wand beginning to glow inches from her nose.

"You know what?" asked Lockhart. "I think I'll suggest to you that you're madly in love with me like all the rest of the girls at this ridiculous school while I'm at it. _Ob_ -"

"That's just gross," said Vince from the doorway, Greg at his elbow.

Lockhart's head came up and in that instant of distraction, Hannah's knee came up and connected with his groin as hard as she could manage before she let herself slide to the ground and out of his grip. All of the color drained from Lockhart's face as he began to fall sideways, gasping, "- _liviate_ ," still trying to finish the spell. Unfortunately for him, he did, though his rapidly descending trajectory caused it to hit the mirror and rebound directly onto him, tossing him easily backward and over one of his trunks and leaving him face down and groaning.

Hannah popped to her feet again and stalked over, wand drawn, and muttering, "Ugh! Serves you right!"

"Alright, Hannah?" said Greg as he and Vince finally entered the room, both looking fit to throttle something.

"Fine, thanks, you?" she said, attempting to adjust her jumper for an excuse to do something with her hands.

Lockhart came up onto his knees and cracked a sweetly addled smile. "Hello!" He looked around. "Are you moving house?"

He also did not see Greg's fist coming until it connected with his face.

Greg nodded, satisfied as Lockhart fell over once more. "Fine. Suppose we should find a _real_ professor now, though."

Vince and Hannah tilted their heads dispassionately at Lockhart's unconscious form, as Vince muttered, "Yeah. Reckon you're right."

"Let's go," said Hannah with a grim nod of her own.

###

Harry turned back to the sink and breathed. "Ok. Alright. Parseltongue." He took another deep breath and said in a very stern voice, "Open!"

"Try again, Potter," frowned Draco. "Pretend it's a snake, or something."

Closing his eyes for a moment, Harry focused on what it felt like to talk to the snakes he had; imagined hissing his command in sibilant tones, and finally opened his mouth and murmured, "Open." The shifting sink startled him into opening his eyes again only to find Draco smirking.

"There we go," smirked Draco. "I'm brilliant. You first."

Hesitating for only a moment, Harry nodded and made to move toward it, when Neville spoke.

"I'll go first," he said, stepping up. "I've got the mirror."

Considering giving the 'you don't have to do this' speech, all it took was a good look at Neville's expression for Harry to know there was no point. Instead, he managed a small smile and said, "Be my guest."

Pansy's nose twisted in distaste as Neville disappeared into the dirty pipe, biting her lip as they waited for what seemed like forever and yet couldn't have been more than a few seconds. Finally Neville's voice wafted up through the pipe as though from very far away. "I'm fine. And it's... rather nasty down here."

"Be careful," murmured Draco as Pansy set her expensive mary janes into the pipe and pulled herself up to sit on the edge.

"See you in a bit," she said, nonchalance a little too forced as she held on tight to her skirt, let go and slid down.

Draco bent at the waist just barely and motioned with a graceful gesture, "After you."

Harry actually laughed as he swung onto the edge of the pipe. "Git," he said under his breath, and then disappeared.

"Freak," said Draco quietly though Harry was long gone. Swallowing hard, he climbed in and finally let go.

###

Pansy walked with the mirror extended in front of her, not self-conscious at all about the fact that she had a deathgrip on Neville's jumper with her free hand. Eyes wide as they came to a large round door covered in stone snakes, she was really beginning to regret this. Where exactly were the Gryffindors when you needed foolish acts of courage anyway? Why were they the ones that had run for help, again, instead of being the ones screaming in terror at the sixty-foot long sheddings of an horrifically deadly reptile?

Not that she had, of course, screamed in terror. Dear God, she'd wanted to, but she hadn't. There may have been some squealing, but no shrieking at all.

Harry came forward and placed his hand on the door. He didn't even have to shut his eyes this time in order to hiss out a command that caused the snakes to fold back and away from the door that then swung easily open. Dim as the chamber beyond was, Pansy could make out a figure on the ground in the mirror, the vivid red hair a dead giveaway.

"Ginny!" Neville gasped and ran into the chamber.

Pansy nodded to Harry and Draco, lowering the mirror as she called out, "It's clear!" and followed.

Neville was already turning Ginny over as Harry caught up. "Is she--?" Harry dropped to his knees, set his wand down next to her and pushed her hair back from her face, murmuring, "Don't be dead - please don't be dead," repeating it as mantra, oblivious as his wand rolled away. "Please, Ginny, wake up."

At the barest sign of movement, Draco pulled Pansy's mirror hand up and tilted it toward the corner of the room. Furrowing his brow, he said, "Who the devil is that?"

"She won't wake, Potter," said the newcomer, strolling in and casually picking up Harry's wand as he walked through the group. "Thoughtful of you to bring friends."

Harry's head snapped up. "Tom Riddle?"

"Riddle?" said Draco, eyeing him warily as he placed the name immediately. "Are you a ghost?"

"A memory," Riddle smirked. "Preserved in that little diary."

"We have to get her out of here, Tom," said Harry. "Do you know another way out?"

His harsh laughter sparked a memory, and Harry looked up at Riddle again. "Tom?"

###

Harry stood in the center of the chamber, sick to his stomach, sick of this game and sick of the idea that Tom Riddle was really Voldemort, who was in fact not the greatest sorceror in the world. The murderer that killed his parents had been in that book all along; he'd been taking possession of Ginny and using her as a pawn in his ploy to get to Harry. Not to mention sick that he'd been dumb enough to drop his wand and now had to worry that he'd gotten not only himself but his friends killed.

The stones rolled open and Harry shielded his eyes, watching for the snake's reflection in the patchy puddles of water. The impossibly massive slithering sound became a splash as what could only be the Basilisk slid into the watery sludge at the edge of the Chamber and approached.

Neville looked up on instinct as the huge snake slid past, and Pansy immediately covered his eyes with her hands, curling around him with a whimper as its tail flicked and knocked them down. Harry could hear Riddle instructing it to come after him first, and he backpedalled away from the entryway.

"Get back! Leave us alone!" said Harry, in as commanding a hiss as he could manage.

Once again, Riddle's laughter rang out through the chamber. "Parseltongue won't help you. It will only obey me."

Harry looked frantically from the ground to the smirking memory of Tom Riddle and back calling out, "Get Ginny out of here! All of you, get out!"

"You're mad," Draco managed to say, though he was as near to panic as he ever got, eyes shielded and trained on the ground where he was crouched. "As if we'd leave your dumb arse here. The hell kind of Hufflepuff does that?" One hand on Ginny's arm and wand clenched in the other, he aimed in the general direction of the Basilisk and shouted, " _Vipera Evanesca_!"

The jet of light left his wand and struck something with a sizzle that was quickly drowned out by a deafening hiss. The Basilisk struck at Harry but caught only a mouthful of stone as he rolled away from it, shouting, "It says that tickled."

Oddly melodic music suddenly filled the chamber, and Harry found himself trying to recall where he'd heard it before. Riddle saved him the trouble as he sneered, "Why look - Dumbledore's sent his songbird. How incredibly pointless."

Harry watched as Fawkes' shadow descended upon that of the Basilisk and suddenly its cries filled through the room as a backdrop to frantic thrashing and ripping sounds. Scrambling to his feet, he tried to move further away from the exit. Riddle's taunts followed him, assuring him that the Basilisk could find him regardless of whether it could see him or not. It struck blindly twice more, herding Harry toward the corner of the room, and Harry was powerless to resist.

"Potter!"

Harry's head snapped up as Draco threw his own wand, catching it easily just as he was forced to dodge the Basilisk again, effectively out of room as he reached the base of a ledge too high for him to easily scale.

He held Draco's wand aloft, but the words of the spell (any spell, for that matter) escaped him as the huge, blind snake reared up before him, fangs deadly and gleaming, breathing a stench that Harry could only describe as _death_. He could hear Neville and Pansy throwing ineffectual hexes at it, but the Basilisk didn't flinch, busy preparing to strike its primary target, finally cornered. He turned his head away and shouted at the top of his lungs, " _Vipera Evanesca_!" as the huge jaws came down toward him. The sound and terror reached a crescendo as the blast from the wand in his hand hit the roof of the snake's mouth and began to melt it away, the skull and teeth bared as they came down on Harry's arm before being burned away completely. Harry's cry of pain mingled with that of more than one person shouting his name, and he reeled against the wall while he watched the serpent be consumed by flame and embers, head first.

Applauding languidly, Riddle moved toward Harry. "I might've had further use for her," he said, his eyes on Harry, who stumbled forward and landed hard on his knees. "But I think she gave her life quite nobly," he went on, clearly amused as Harry yanked the fang out of his arm with a cry of pain, his head swimming. "It was for the cause, after all."  
  
Harry blinked and scrubbed at his eyes with his forearm, switching the wand to his good hand to give it back to Draco, who was already rushing to close the distance between them. His mouth was dry and beginning to taste like rust, and he croaked, "Stop him," as he shoved the wand at Draco.

"The Basilisk's venom won't take long," Riddle laughed and twirled Harry's wand as Draco stood shocked, studying the fang slipping from Harry's hand, not knowing what to make of the information. The fact that Harry would be dead soon didn't quite register correctly as Tom kept speaking. "You'll be with your dear Mudblood mother soon, Harry."

"Shut up!" Draco snarled, all of the anger that he held for the fact that he was caught in between in the huge joke of a battle of dogmas finding its way easily to the surface, and whether he was coherent or not was a concern that was past him just now. "You're one to talk about Mudbloods, you filthy half-blood!" He didn't even flinch as Fawkes swooped low over his head to land nearby. Instead, with a last look in Harry's direction, he advanced on the blurred-around-the-edges Riddle, pure murder in his eyes. "You're not even real, you never will be again, not really! And just wait until your beloved followers find out about you! Because I'm going to be the one to tell them!"  
  
Riddle's eyes narrowed as he pointed Harry's wand at Draco. "I think I'll deal with you first." His eyes darted to Ginny and back. "Oh, very shortly. And of course, after you watch your friends there die."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "We'll see about that." He hazarded a look over his shoulder to find Neville there, wand also drawn.

"That silly book is the least I was able to do at sixteen," sneered Riddle. "Killing you all will just be a pleasant refresher course."

"The book!" breathed Pansy, rolling Ginny unceremoniously off of her lap, snatching the diary from her unresisting grip and scramblling over to Harry.

Beginning to look a little more alert, Harry shook his head, blinking at Fawkes as he mumbled, "Phoenix tears." He stretched his arm out, but there was no evidence of the fatal bite save a small pucker of scar tissue where the edges of the wound had come together and sealed shut. As Pansy approached holding the book, his eyes widened.

"What are you doing?" asked Riddle, alarmed. "No! Damn you, stop--"

Harry picked up the fang again and brought it down hard enough to penetrate the leather cover of the book. Riddle's shriek was deafening as he burst into bits of light and color, Harry's wand sent flying from his clenching, flailing hand. Though the four of them moved entirely on instinct to shield their faces, the explosion itself was silent and intangible, and as they lowered their arms, nothing was left to show for it save a diary bleeding ink and the bloodied fang of a Basilisk.

"Oh my god, you're alive," Pansy said, still somewhat shocked as she threw her arms around Harry.

"How in fact are you not dead?" said Draco, his voice and hands still shaking as he pocketed his wand on the fourth try. "Not, that I'm complaining, for the most part."

"Remember what Dumbledore said?" Harry said, patting Pansy awkwardly.

"Phoenix tears have healing powers," said Pansy, the only one close enough to have heard his murmur. She then pulled away and smacked Harry as hard as she could. "Idiot. You almost died."

"Tom?" Ginny's voice was small and scared as she stirred. Her eyes searched the chamber as she tried to sit up, her eyes widening as she saw the people around her. "Harry? Neville?"

"...and friends," muttered Pansy. "Your brother wouldn't have sent me, but I came anyway. Because he was a little too _petrified_ to make it."

"I know." Ginny's face crumpled as tears began to spill down her cheeks. "Oh God, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to. He could've-- I could've killed him."

"And yourself. And Potter," agreed Draco, clearing his throat. "And a lot of other people. And then your friend the Dark Lord there would have killed a lot more."

"Would you shut up? Both of you?" said Neville, kneeling again next to Ginny. "She didn't know what she was doing. Right?"

Shaking her head violently, Ginny clung to Neville. "I didn't. In the beginning, I did, but... it was just a book. I thought-- I mean, I didn't know where it came from but it was... like having a friend who understood me all the time. But later... I couldn't--" Her words became more indistinct as she dragged the edge of the sleeve of her filthy jumper across her face. "I didn't even remember... and after that... anything he told me to do... it was like I had to do it."

"Sort of like the Imperius curse, then," said Harry very pointedly in Draco's direction as he stood unsteadily and made his way to Ginny.

As if on cue, Draco and Pansy both dropped their eyes to the ground. "Oh," murmured Draco. "There's that."

Harry held his hand out to Ginny, "Hey. Can you walk?"

She nodded and sniffled hard, wiped her face again as she mumbled, "I think so." Harry and Neville helped her up as she tried unsuccessfully to bite back more sobs. "M-my mum and dad-- what'll they think?" She brushed the hair back from her face ineffectually with one hand, scrubbing the other down her cheek as she cried, repeating desperately, "I didn't mean to, I swear."

"Hush," said Pansy, her voice a little softer as she pulled the small barette from her her hair and transfigured it into a velvet elastic. She moved closer and pulled Ginny's hair back into a lumpy ponytail. "It's over now," she said, smoothing it carefully with her fingers, mumbling a detangling charm and fastening the elastic a little above Ginny's neck. "From what I know about your parents, they'll just be glad you're alive. No use in panicking over what they might do now. Your minions, on the other hand, may end up having to follow you around for the rest of the term to avoid retribution in case anyone who was attacked doesn't believe your story." She turned Ginny by the shoulders to face her, the expression on her face full of mock severity. "You do have minions, don't you? Any Slytherin of note should, the way I understand it."

Ginny fell against Pansy and began to cry again, though at first the sobs sounded as if they almost wanted to be laughter. Pansy breathed a supremely put-out sigh, even though her hands came up and circled Ginny's shoulders, her eyes curiously wet as they finally sought Harry again over Ginny's shoulder. "What's the plan for getting back out, Potter?"

###  
  
Dumbledore sat quietly as Harry, Draco, Pansy and Neville related the tale of the Chamber, hands steepled under his chin and interjecting a question or two in between for clarity's sake. When they were done, Dumbledore adjusted his glasses and turned the destroyed diary over.

"Children, I don't need to tell you that following Miss Weasley into the Chamber was a spectacularly dangerous thing to do, as was attempting to take on Tom Riddle yourselves, memory though he might have been. It is a minor miracle that you survived, moreover killed the Basilisk and stopped Riddle's memory from being made flesh, saving Miss Weasley's life and breaking innumerable school rules in the process."

They slumped a little and unconsciously moved into a tighter group.

"Therefore, I am calling for an unscheduled late night feast, followed by a day off from classes. And I think... let's see, yes. Special Awards for Services to the School and two hundred points for each of you and your respective houses."

Pansy actually laughed and clapped her hands, as the boys murmured and grinned at one another.

"You should know, we have yet another reason to celebrate." The four students brightened further as Dumbledore went on. "We have spent the past two months owling all possible contacts in the Southern Hemisphere to see if anyone had mature mandrakes to spare. It has been difficult, as the Basilisk is not native to anywhere but northern Europe, and petrifaction due to other reasons is very rare. Just today, however, we received a package of cut Mandrakes by courier from the Chilean _Colegio de Maravillas_. Madam Pomfrey set to brewing this afternoon, which I daresay would be why you were uninterrupted in the planning stages of this venture. Our victims of petrifaction should be restored within a few hours."

Grinning, they took very little if any notice of the house elf that suddenly appeared and begged humbly to be pardoned for the interruption. It handed the Headmaster a note, then disappeared again. Professor Dumbledore held up a finger before he was done reading it and said, "Mr. Malfoy, please go to the infirmary and have Madam Pomfrey look at the lacerations on your arm. Miss Parkinson, if you'd accompany him?"

Draco shifted and pulled his dirty shirt cuff down again to hide the welts as Harry peered and mumbled, "What lacerations?"

"They're fine," said Draco dismissively. "Can't we just--"

"I insist, Mr. Malfoy," said Professor Dumbledore, standing and setting the note face down on the desktop before crossing the rear of the room to the tapestry near Fawkes' perch. He pulled it aside to reveal a door, drawing a shape on the latch with his fingers that no one could quite remember when he was done. "You'll find that this passage will lead you to the corridor just upstairs from the infirmary. Do hurry."

With several murmured promises to turn up shortly, they were gone, and the Headmaster was seating himself again. He held up a hand up against Harry and Neville's questions as he Banished the note. "Three, two--"

The main door to his office blew wide open as Lucius Malfoy strode in. "What exactly, is the meaning of this?"

###

Plain, non-magical strawberry sucker hanging out of his mouth (courtesy Madam Pomfrey), Draco strolled directly into the Hufflepuff common room to find it abuzz with activity that stopped pretty much dead as he appeared.

"MnghHi?" he said around the sucker with a _clack_ , a little worried. That is, until the cheering began. Suddenly everyone was thumping his back and talking about how great he was. Draco was officially in heaven. But he still needed a shower, given that the only clean part of his body was his right arm from the elbow down where Madam Pomfrey had used various versions of thorough cleaning spells before healing his scratches.

"I knew all along that neither of you were the Heir," declared Anthony, basking in celebrity by association.

Cedric shoved past Anthony, grinning stupidly. "Four _hundred_ points between the two of you. Christ. The House Cup's ours for sure."

"Yes, thank you, Diggory, I'm just fine. As is Potter, who nearly snuffed it, as is his wont," deadpanned Draco. "Where is that git, anyway?"

"Upstairs, brat," Adri cut in, cuffing Draco's cheek affectionately. "We exiled him to rid himself of the stink. As we're about to do with you."

A general murmur of consensus went up around him and Draco waved it off as he headed toward the dormitories. "I don't appreciate smelling like an old toilet, no. But I'll be back, and all this same sort of appreciation had better be waiting for me."

He took a friendly shove to the back for that one, but it had been worth it.

###

Draco threw open the door to the dormitory and called out, "Potter, you wretch, you beat me to the welcoming committee?" but there was no response. Shrugging, he made his way to the far door that led to the bathroom, the sounds of running water more apparent the closer he came. Upon entering the bathroom, he began tossing his clothes aside indiscriminately with a moue of distaste, completely unselfconscious as he sauntered to the shower stall nearest the one in use. "You realize of course, my clothes are a total loss." Only Harry's head was visible over the stall, bowed as he stood under the steaming water, his hands braced on the tile. Draco frowned. "Harry?"

Clearly agitated, Harry took a long moment to scrub the water away from his face before he finally looked up, though not at Draco. "Did you even see what happened? I mean, you were there, and you could have died, so I'm thinking yes. It's not a game, Draco. _Voldemort_ tried to kill me. Again. And Ginny. And you. And Neville and Pansy."

"Yes," said Draco, rolling his eyes. "But he didn't. Because we kicked his arse." Pausing briefly, Draco corrected himself. "Actually, _you_ kicked his giant snake in the arse with a spell so powerful even Dumbledore looked surprised that you pulled it off, much less with a wand that wasn't yours. I did a lot of threatening and being very impressively, righteously, _vengefully_ angry." The expression on Harry's face was unchanged and Draco set his jaw, adding the grudging admission, "...And trusting that you'd make good on my initial assessment of someone who wouldn't let their friends die a horrible death." He reached over the divider and shoved the side of Harry's head. "See? I'm right. As usual. Though it would be helpful if you would stop dragging me into situations in which that's even a possible outc--."

Harry swatted his hand away violently, blurting out, "It was your dad."

Draco's lip twisted into a sneer, his stomach churning as he turned to focus on turning on the faucet so as not to look at his lying bastard of a traitorous half-blood friend again, though the moment the words were in the air, Draco knew it couldn't be anything but true.

###

As soon as the words were out of Harry's mouth, he regretted having said them the way he did, still partially numb and reeling from having again been so close to death. "It's just--" he tried again. "He was at the school tonight. It's why Dumbledore sent you and Pansy out when he did. Your dad-- he was delivering an order to have Dumbledore removed from the school." Draco was completely unresponsive and Harry made the effort to focus his eyes firmly on the indistinct shapes of the tile and faucets that had become a Byzantine blur without the help of his glasses. Harry took a breath and said it all at once. "But it was him that slipped Tom Riddle's diary to Ginny that day in Diagon Alley. It's how he knew about the stuff that had happened with the Chamber before. I also, um. Tricked him into freeing Dobby tonight. He's not best pleased. He..." Here, Harry paused and chewed the inside of his lip, reluctant to tell Draco exactly what his father did say, or that he'd threatened Harry's life. "He um. Seems to think I've 'poisoned you against him', I think is what he said."

It was Draco's turn to just stand there and let the water pummel him, until he finally said, "You have, Potter. You and Diggory and Sprout and all of bloody _Hufflepuff_ and the damnable Weasleys and Granger and Longbottom." Harry stared, at a loss for what to say until Draco suddenly growled, "Damn it!" and slammed his fist on the tile, repeatedly. "Damn it! Damn it and damn him and damn Hufflepuff and damn you, too."

Harry could only watch as Draco pressed his forehead to the tile as his fist made contact one more time and then just stayed where it landed. "Two years ago, I probably would have thought it was hilarious, everyone running scared, my dad behind it all. I wouldn't have given a damn. Now... all I can think is that people I know and care about have been hurt. And I can't stand my father for not seeing it."

With a final, hard kick to the tile, Draco stood up straight and made a face. "Ouch."

Letting his arms fall carelessly over the side of the divider, Harry barked a laugh and dropped his head, immediately trying to say, "Sorry," but all that came out was an 's' sound and another laugh.

"Shut up," scowled Draco, though it didn't last, nor was it even convincing. Nose twitching as he tried not to laugh, he shoved Harry's face back over the divider. "Stop leering at me, I'm trying to have a serious crisis while I shower."

Harry could only laugh harder. He slid to the chilly, textured stone floor and laughed until he couldn't breathe anymore; laughter that came from deep down and took with it so much tension and stress, he felt physically lighter. It didn't help that he could hear Draco laughing, too, the same sort of mad cackle that never failed to egg him on, though carrying a brittle hardness under the amusement that was impossible to miss.

Draco's face popped over the divider, eyes narrow, though he was still laughing. "I hate you, Potter. Truly, I do." He smirked as one hand darted out and reached over to the hot water tap in Harry's stall and turned it all the way off.

Swearing as the icy cold water struck his skin, Harry scrambled off of the ground and out of the stall as fast as he could, glaring through stray guffaws as he wrapped himself in a towel. "No you don't, l-l-liar," he stuttered against the sudden shivers from the cold water. "Your life would be unb-b-bearable without me."

Draco snickered as he tossed up a rude gesture over his shoulder. "You're just afraid I'd steal your spotlight otherwise."

"You can have it," said Harry, running a hand through his hair and by then almost all the way out of the room. "Hurry up, anyway. Feast and all."

"Scared of facing your adoring fans on your own, Potter?" Draco asked with much feigned innocence.

Harry rolled his eyes with a dismissive hand wave. "You can have them, too."

###

"Unfair!" cried Hannah, sitting cross-legged at the very end of the bench at Hufflepuff table in her sheep-print flannel pyjamas, gesturing with the hunk of chocolate poundcake in hand. "We only got fifty a piece for kicking the stuffing out of that hack."

"Mmph," agreed Greg through his mouthful. "Headmaster said it was for 'demonstrating commendable self-defense tactics'."

Pansy, wearing a frilly pink nightgown and wrapped in a soft velvet dressing gown, wiggled her toes in the matching slippers. "That's because _we_ almost died. Harry, most of all."

"Yes, yes, Basilisk venom and whatnot," said Hannah dismissively. "That's his job though, isn't it? I mean, if he'd vanquished You Know Who properly the first time, he wouldn't be doing the remedial work."

Draco nearly fell over, leaning against a giggling Pansy as he laughed, though Harry was not nearly as amused.

"You're hilarious, Hannah, really," Harry deadpanned, trying not to laugh. "Tell another."

"I've got one," murmured Neville through a smile. "The Savior of the wizarding world is a Hufflepuff."

"It's _hard work_!" said Harry, flushing and pulling the striped pyjama sleeves out from under the sleeves of his black and burnished gold Weasley jumper even as he laughed along with the rest of his friends. He couldn't help it, suffused as he was by the feeling of actually belonging that was never so pronounced than at times like this. His words held no real malice as he grinned and kicked Neville under the table. "Wanker."

The main doors of the Great Hall opened again and three students came in, still dressed in their Hogwarts uniforms and looking vaguely confused. A cheer went up, though no one was as loud as the far end of the Hufflepuff table when they caught sight of their friend.

Hermione rushed over and indulged in a glut of hugging, enthusiastically throwing her arms around even Draco and Pansy in turn. "You worked it out! And you killed the monster and stopped the Heir!"

Pansy smoothed out her robe and then picked up her mug of hot cocoa, looking as unimpressed as she could manage. "Of course we did. We're brilliant."

Hermione took the empty seat next to Vince and across from Neville and smiled delightedly. "Obviously, you found our notes."

"It was in your hand." Flushing, Neville shoved a bit of trifle around his dish. "Don't know how the professors missed it. Alright?"

"Famished, but just fine, I think," nodded Hermione. "Thank you."

"Ron's still in the infirmary?" Pansy asked.

"With Ginny, yes," Hermione said, tone becoming more staid. "Mr. and Mrs. Weasley arrived by Floo a little while ago, and they've all gathered there while Madam Pomfrey and Professor Dumbledore make sure she's alright."

"So that's where all the garish ginger went," muttered Draco, holding his own elbow out as pre-emptive counter to the inevitable elbow of protest against his Weasley-bashing, though none came.

"Is she alright?" asked Harry.

"They think so," said Hermione. "Professor Dumbledore said that she's in no further danger and that she'll have no lasting effects, but I think they just wanted to make sure." She eyed the food on the table and reached for a plain apple, at the last minute changing her mind and choosing one coated in caramel and sprinkled with nuts, toffee and chocolate. Everyone around her stared in disbelief, but Hermione only shrugged. "I'll brush my teeth extra hard."

###

Students were beginning to slip away from the Great Hall as the great clock struck midnight. More than one person could be seen napping on the tabletops, though for the most part, everyone still present was conscious if no longer eating. Having seen their parents off, Ron and Ginny made their way down from the infirmary behind Fred, George and Percy. Percy peeled away from the group early in the trip, begging off to 'attend to his duties', while Fred and George decided to circle around to the side doors and see what sort of mischief they could cause.

George planted his hands on his hips, their identical grins beginning to lose some of the severity of the past twenty four hours or so. "Now, Ronniekins. You're to stay away from snakes at all costs."

"And you. No more possession, Ginevra, I mean it," said Fred, shaking a finger in a fashion eerily reminiscent of their mother as he spoke directly over Ron.

"Yeah, 'cos if Malfoy has a hand in saving you again, we'll have to be nice to the little ferret," George said seamlessly, cuffing the side of her head lightly. " _Think_ , Ginnybear."

"Potter's alright though. Reckon dad might not have an aneurysm if you became _his_ pet damsel," Fred chimed in, raising an eyebrow in a mockery of deep thought.

George snorted. "When you're about... thirty."

Beet red, Ginny glared. "Go away, fools."

"Never, little sister," George said, pulling her into his arms as Fred collared Ron and smashed him into the group hug, too.

"You're stuck with us," said Fred over Ron's mumbled protests.

"And Billy and Charlie. And even Percy, though heaven knows we've tried to cure him or kill him over and over and nothing seems to work."

"But he'll come around-- we have faith," Fred said as he shook his siblings none too gently.

"--And blackmail material," added George with great cheer.

"And less than legal methods of coercion as a last ditch effort if all else fails," the twins said together as they released Ron, though Ginny's arms were still clamped around George's middle.

"I'm no one's pet damsel," muttered Ginny doggedly into his chest.

"I know, I know," he murmured right back. "You heard Dad. Weasleys are made of sterner stuff than that." He offered her a bright grin, shoving the hair back from her face as she pulled away. "Go on, go play."

"We have work to do," finished Fred, waving once before dashing off with George at his elbow, leaving Ron and Ginny standing near the main entrance of the Great Hall.

Ginny stared after them for a moment before turning to the doors. Unconsciously, she reached out and took Ron's hand.

"Alright, Gin?" said Ron, squeezing it.

"Yeah, mostly. I'm fine I think," Ginny answered, squeezing back. "But I'm not going in there. I just... can't." At the look of alarm on his face, she added, "It's not, you know, anxiety or whatever. I'm just... exhausted. I don't have a party in me right now."

Ron relaxed a little more, watching her for a long moment before nodding. "Yeah. Alright. I'll walk you back."

"No!" said Ginny, pulling her hand from his and using it to smooth down her shirt. "I mean, it's ok. You should go - you know everyone's dying to see you."

"Whatever," answered Ron, insistent. "They'll see me tomorrow. I have time to walk my sister back to her common room."

"Ron, it's fine, I swear. I'll be fine." She took a step back from him and gave him a small smile as she held up a placating hand. "I _want_ to go alone. I'll see you tomorrow, too, ok?"

His eyes darted to the door and back, and then he took a step away as well with a concessionary nod. "You've got it. I'll come get you for lunch, though?"

Ginny nodded, then offered a small wave as he disappeared into the Great Hall, the cheer and a chorus of laughter immediately following muffled by the thud of the door swinging shut. Turning on her heel, she crossed her arms in front of her chest and began the walk back to Slytherin. She hadn't gone far when she heard a familiar voice.

"Hello, Ginny! You _are_ just Ginny again, correct?"

"Luna!" said Ginny as she turned toward the voice... and then turned again, perplexed. "Luna?"

"Oh, good. It's you," said Luna as she slipped out from behind a tapestry that Ginny could swear hung flush to the wall and had been flat only a moment past, wearing bright green pyjamas with equally bright yellow ribbons threaded through the sleeves and edges. "Welcome back!"

Ginny bit her lip. "I'm really sorry about stunning you, it just--"

"Wasn't you," finished Luna, nodding sagely. "I could tell."

"Really? How?" asked Ginny, brow furrowed and becoming annoyed as Luna began to laugh raucously. "Why is that funny?"

"Because!" said Luna with some difficulty as she tried to calm herself. "It wasn't hard to see."

"No one else seemed to notice before!" said Ginny, throwing a disgusted hand up.

Wiping a tear of mirth away with a sigh, Luna asked, "It wasn't the first time?"  
  
"No," said Ginny, unamused. "It wasn't."

"Oh," Luna blinked. "I suppose that would explain a lot."

Ginny bristled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"How you used to get sad and worried. You don't seem the sad and worried type to me."

"How would you know? _You_ never noticed before either!" Ginny insisted.

"You were always _you_ around me," Luna shrugged. "Though now I very much wish you hadn't been. Because _I_ would have noticed." Tilting her head at Ginny, she asked, "Who were you, anyway?"

Ginny held her chin up and spat the name defiantly. "Voldemort, apparently."

"Oh." Luna had definitely stopped laughing. "What was that like?"

No one had thought to ask Ginny this as of yet - no doubt trying to spare her, though they had all been dying to ask, she knew. The fact that Luna had was oddly comforting, and it never occurred to Ginny not to answer. "What I can remember of it was cold and frightening. I thought I was going mad."  
  
Luna blinked. " _Mad_ is completely relative, you know." Ginny snorted a disbelieving laugh, and Luna leaned in, rolling her eyes. "You know, people say _I'm_ mad. Isn't that the funniest thing? But it just goes to show."

"That's because you _are_ ," said Ginny through a half-smile. "The good kind, anyway." She paused. "You didn't go to the feast?"

"I stopped in for sweets," said Luna with a pleased nod. "But then I left."

Ginny arched an eyebrow. "Why?"

"We go to the Great Hall everyday," Luna shrugged. "Seemed more entertaining to wander the halls at night."

"Well, I'm _wandering_ back to Slytherin," said Ginny, knowing there was more to it than what Luna was willing to say. "Come with me. My brothers slipped me chocolate that I'm going to leave out in the common room while I eat the biscuits Mum brought."

Luna positively beamed. "The Chompy Chockies?"

"No clue. Are they shaped like little kissprints?"

"Those are the ones!"

"What do they do?" asked Ginny, resuming the walk toward Slytherin.

Luna followed, linking her elbow through Ginny's. "It's more entertaining to see than explain."

"And a lot funnier when I'm not the test subject, no doubt," said Ginny, casting a sideways glance at Luna. "How exactly did you end up friends with my brothers again?"

"Bread pudding," said Luna in all severity, staring into the distance and oblivious of Ginny's confusion. "Fascinating sculpting material, that. And so tasty when made just right."  
  
###

The enchanted sky floating against the vaulted ceiling of the Hall was beginning to lighten to reflect the coming dawn as Harry climbed into his bed. So far past exhausted as to be already mostly asleep the moment his head hit the pillow, he had no time to reflect on his near death-- no time to worry about Voldemort or Lucius Malfoy or Lockhart the rumors about who was covering for Defense while Dumbledore found a new professor. Harry did nothing but roll over once with a gentle snore, and did not shift again from his deep and dreamless sleep through the morning and some good bit of the early afternoon.

Until, of course, Diggory came in raving about practice.

 

\---end


End file.
